The Cross
by Fuseki
Summary: She was clumsy. And not at all smart. Barely grown. All she had going for her was a photograph, her father's sword, and his legacy. H&M, Shoujo-ai, Yuri
1. Chapter 1

She didn't know her father's killer, to be fair. The photograph found on his dead body was enough, however, to make her see red. Her lip trembled as she hoisted his shining katana into her weak hands. Its blade sung to her, told her to seek revenge. Her sapphire eyes turned back to her father's mutilated, torn body. She was clumsy. And not at all smart. Barely grown. All she had going for her was a photograph, her father's sword, and his legacy.

* * *

The night air ruffled her aqua hair as she sat on the rooftop overlooking the shops and restaurants. The smell of General Tso's and grease hung in the air, the city alive. Paper lanterns lit the streets, people meandering in the soft light. She smiled just a little at the pop of tiny fireworks and confetti-makers. Her father always loved to take her to Chinatown.

"Michiru!" came a quick, young voice. She looked over to see a shy boy of around 6 peering at her. "Nana says there's a phone call for you!" He was gone in a moment after delivering his message and Michiru stood. She looked down to the lively streets, picturing herself for a moment wandering there, evading her father. However, it was never long before he found her, no matter where. Michiru smiled some.

"Thanks, Mrs. S.," Michiru said softly and bowed her head to the elderly lady who held a cordless phone in her hand. The aqua-haired girl took it, lifting it to her ear. "Speak," she whispered.

"I have a lead. You owe me more and more everyday," the cocky, pert voice came. Michiru felt a smile tug at her lips despite herself.

"You can put it on my tab," she replied softly, feeling Mrs. Satoroka's eyes on her back. She turned to the wall, her eyes tracing the faded old wallpaper. "What is it?"

"Well, after getting lost by the postal service five times. Honestly, in Hungary! Who do they even think they are anymore-?"

"Reish," she snapped, impatient. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. "Tell me."

"Oh! Right. Anyway, your enlarged fine prints arrived. I got a hit on one of the signs in the background. Sacramento. I couldn't get the exact date without the photo itself..."

"Forget it. That's enough. Thanks." She hung up, clicking the button on the phone. She turned and flashed the elderly woman a smile. "Just my friend Reisho. He bought my bus ticket so it looks like I'm out of here." She lied easily. It was one of the things she did best of all.

"Friend of family?" The old lady asked, skeptical.

Michiru gave her another sweet smile. "Something like that. Anyway, I'm going to say goodbye to San. It's been so nice of you to take me in like this." She went into the little boy's room, sitting down on his bed. He peered at her from beneath his Jackie Chan bedsheets and she smiled some, reaching to ruffle his dark hair. "I'm leaving, kiddo," she said softly.

The child's eyes widened and he leapt to hug Michiru, taking the girl by surprise. "You can't! You're the only good babysitter ev-er!"

Michiru smiled and laughed. "I'll come back someday, okay?"

"Promise?"

Michiru had promised, but she knew it was unlikely she'd keep it. She couldn't afford to as she was. Perhaps with a new name, a new identity...

* * *

The bus ride from San Francisco to Sacramento felt eons long. She spent the time pondering, wondering if this would finally be her big break. For a year she had spent her time running, never stopping, needing to find that person.

Her mind wandered. There had been so much blood. Her father had died quickly, his throat slit with another's sword. He wore his best suit, his greying teal hair slicked back. Above the blood and silk sat the photograph. Michiru's hands hesitated over its aura. At last, grief capturing her heart, she had taken it. A polaroid, it seemed innocent enough. However, as she looked closer, the image of her father and a blonde person had her wondering. A calling card, she finally denounced. The killer leaving clues.

Although her heart had begged her to stay, to give her father a proper burial, to see him off right, she had left. Her eyes fell upon her father's treasured katana, its blade long and shining silver, etched with words in their native Japanese, and deadly sharp. Their last remnant of the place they had called home.

Michiru leaned her head back against the bus seat, ignoring the sound of a baby cooing nearby, of an old lady knitting a few seats ahead. There had been no information about her father's killer. The photo was all she had, but her gut told her she was right. What had been so wrong about her father wanting to give his family a proper life? Who had it angered to see him quit the business to raise his daughter in America?

Inside her coat, she felt for the photo, taking it out. It held all the hate and love in her world. On one side, her loving father, and on the other, his killer. Rain pattered on the bus's roof as they roared down the highway upstate. She wondered to herself if her father had entered the business in this way, too. Had a loss inspired him to wield the sword and seek blood? She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her head against the long case which held her beloved weapon, trying to listen to its secrets. A gun was loud, its musings a yell, but the sword, old fashioned and rare in their line of work, only whispered.

* * *

Sacramento brought back few memories. Perhaps an aquarium? Michiru had been too young. She checked into a motel on the outskirts of town. She took a long bath, scenting the water with lavender and jasmine. As she relaxed, she collected her thoughts.

Assassins were the things of legend. No one believed they existed, for their use in high profile cases was rare. The ones that were well known were quickly covered up and shoved under the rug. There was no way the FBI or any group anywhere would want people knowing exclusively about the kind of work Matsumo Kaiou and dozens before him had done.

Michiru's fingers skimmed the pages of her father's journal. She had discovered it in the desk her father had worked at in San Francisco, in the den of their house. After assassinations, he had taken up a more humble profession: accounting. Michiru knew now how many people must have wondered why they could afford a huge house on the salary of an accountant, but they never asked. Turning her pages back to the diary, she read.

"Assassins are far too useful for them to let anyone know we exist. We crawl in the shadows of every government of every country, doing the dirty work like rats in a sewer. To hold our tongues, we are paid an extraordinary amount of money for the act of killing. It is not something I am proud of, but I am unfortunately efficient at it. Michiru is five now, and as sharp as a tack. She asks what daddy does, and I tell her I count people's money. It wasn't entirely a lie... I did get a degree. And now, I count the money of the dead. I know at least she will be set for life..."

Michiru raised her eyes to the black backpack sitting innocently on the hotel's ugly floral comforter. Inside was a few thousand in cash and plenty of checkbooks for her personal bank account. Upon the death of her father, two million U.S. dollars was wired to her, from an unknown source. Her father spoke to many people, privately and in person, and Michiru had no clue which of them would have done it. Perhaps the killer... taunting her.

Michiru dressed before dawn, sliding into a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt that said 'HAPPY PANDA' on it. She tied her hair up, making her look even younger than the 16 year old she was. She looked into the mirror, seeing the young girl she used to be. She would blend in seamlessly now. She grabbed the backpack and the long capsule box, shaking with excitement.

* * *

A.N.: Yet another in the "Fuseki and Lostinhersong" WT collection! :D I hope you all enjoy it! We are working on our stories and putting them out there, so please be patient with us. We recently moved and acquired a bird, which has been fun! I currently have a story coming into the final process.

Hopefully update soon! Please review :)


	2. Chapter 2

There was a great flaw in Michiru's plan. She had the sword, the motive, the money, the ability to seek out her father's killer as well as the means to, but what she lacked was the practice of an assassin. Thinking back now, perhaps she'd been too rash. She was in Sacramento, finally. The place she was certain her father's murderer was. If there was anything she had, her father had always said, it was an impeccable intuition.

* * *

"Michiru," her father said. "Tell me... is this man the killer?" He held up a newspaper, the article stating one Matthew McMillen had killed Bradley Smith. Michiru was only 11 at the time, but she shook her head.

"No, daddy."

"How do you know?" He asked, amused, the lines crinkling at the edges of his eyes.

"I just do."

"Very good," he had whispered, and showed her the later paper in which the real killer had been turned in. Matsumo Kaiou had prepared his daughter's mind, harnessing her ability to be a lethal thinker. "I pray you never have to become what I was, Michiru, but none the less your mind will be your greatest ally," he had told her, tapping her forehead before ruffling her hair, making light of it. Still, despite his precautions, he had never taught her the martial arts or weaponry. Michiru wielded the katana praying it would somehow give her all of her father's secrets, but it simply felt heavy and awkward in her hands.

She had plenty of time, she rationalized. Even if the killer wasn't in Sacramento, she would find something there. Several bags of books and DVDs were piled up on the table in the hotel room. Michiru finished another book on Judo, moving on to Jujitsu. That night, she worked with the katana as she viewed a DVD on samurai techniques. She was still weak, still clumsy, but her mind was slowly sharpening from the months of reading and watching, her love of books making up for her lack of experience and instruction.

* * *

A year had passed since her father's death. Michiru had become a mistress of disguise in lieu of herself being the only suspect in his death. At least as far as she knew. Reisho was a 36 year old stock broker, or so he resume would say. He and Michiru's father had gone back many years, since Reisho had been a young thief and early hacker of bank computer systems. He had been something of Michiru's godfather, had procured their house in San Francisco, and had raised her in the 4 months it took her father to sever his ties when Michiru was 5. He helped Michiru find all of her father's greatest friends when she asked.

Her travels had taken her around the globe. Speaking to a Monsieur Laurent Etelier in Paris, who gave her an antique ring her father had given the man, a blue diamond in the center, an elegant man's ring. She smiled as he talked to her over a platter of bread and cheeses. He puffed away on a cigarette, recalling the many times her father had saved his life, and yet he didn't know the blonde figure beside her father in the photo.

Roger Bayard in London had no idea either, though his memories of her father were similar to Mr. Etelier's. He had looked amazed at Michiru's presence, admitting he was caught off guard both by the news and by her boldness. "Ye'll get far, milady," he told her, his eyes kind.

The next on Reisho's list was Lady Anouke in Cairo. Heading to meet her, Michiru half expected to find some kind of dominatrix, though she later learned the woman had saved a king's life and had been given her title. Seeing Michiru, the woman had giving her a thoughtful smile. "You look like your father," she admitted, serving Michiru a special camel's milk, her house in the hot land decorated with rich colors and weapons and dark wood. A mace behind her head on the wall looked quite menacing and Michiru's mind wandered, wondering if the woman had taken a life with it. She winced and drank the milk.

"I need some help," Michiru told her.

"No doubt you're wondering if I am your mother."

Michiru snorted into the milk and looked to her, surprised. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh." She laughed, her hair in a bob style, her elegance obvious. She lifted her own cup with a graceful hand, watching Michiru. "I just thought with the disappearance of your mother when you were little, perhaps you wondered."

"No. No, not really. Father told me she died in childbirth."

"Hmm. A very possible story. I myself don't know. I can tell you however you aren't mine." She flashed charming white teeth.

"Oh. Thank you?" Michiru set her cup down awkwardly and took out the photograph. "No, I came here because I need help identifying this person." She pointed to the smiling blonde. Her father and the other were both young, perhaps 20 each or so, her father wearing his usual business suit, his blue hair slicked back. The blonde had wild hair, his or her face androgynous, lovely enough to be a woman and yet curt enough to be a man. That one wore a red shirt and a black blazer. The two of them stood outside of some kind of building that Michiru learned was unfortunately demolished by then, but the street sign behind them remained. That had given Michiru her only clue months later, but before that she had hoped the face of the stranger would be good enough.

"I'm sorry," the woman said after a long moment. "I don't recognize him."

* * *

Unsuccessful trips to South Africa, Iran, and Russia yielded similar results, although her trip to Japan finally felt like a breakthrough. Mr. Karu Ishikara was a middle aged man by now, but he knew Michiru by name when she was shown into his office and greeted her like an old friend. Michiru settled into the tall chair in his office.

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Ishikara," she said, smiling politely. She wore a white tanktop under a Pikachu hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans, though in Japan she needed little help blending in.

"It is my pleasure, little Kaiou. I am very sad to hear about your father's death. Please accept my greatest condolences." He wore a business suit like her father had, but his hair went down into a long ponytail, disrupting his perfectly groomed, tailored look. He took off his wirey glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I'm afraid, however, that I know nothing off the top of my head to tell you about his death."

Michiru blinked. "You knew I'd ask?"

He chuckled and smiled to her. "The fire is in your eyes. The fire for revenge, for our profession. You have come here for knowledge."

She sat back, amazed, then smiled and nodded, knowing the true assets of an assassin were to read and not be read in return. "It's true. Though I am 16, I find I feel like I have grown up beyond my years in just 8 months, longing for the information, anything to tip me off." She took out the polaroid and gave it to him. The man looked to it, his brows knit.

"This face... this person is familiar to me. However... I apologize." He handed it back. "My memory is failing me."

"Do you think perhaps it was another assassin then?"

"An assassin... or a target."

Michiru's eyes raised to his. "My father never failed."

"No, he didn't, at least that he knew of. Protective measures can effectively, if falsely, erase a person's life. Our profession, Michiru, is one in which killing your friends and greatest allies is eternally a possibility."

Michiru bowed her head, speaking with the man for another hour before she stood from her seat, moving to the door. "Michiru," Mr. Ishikara called. She turned to his desk. "When you find the killer, will you be able to kill?"

Michiru stood thoughtful. Before Japan, she had stopped in several cities and areas. Sometimes, she admired the landscape, walked the flora. Other times, she had just watched the people pass on busy streets, or rumble by in trucks on farming roads, or talk beside her in a subway. She had tried many new foods, heard new music, seen new people, new animals, bugs, stones. Above all, she had visited every church, mosque, and temple she had a chance to, disguising as a tourist with a camera around her neck, though at each she sought a religion that would allow her to forgive and move on. Tears were shed over her father's death every night, no faith giving her heart and busy mind a break. No amount of prayers or chants could relieve her. Her heart felt heavy with the weight of the cross it had been made to bear. She lowered her gaze to the marble floor, then looked to the respected man.

"Yes, I believe so."

* * *

A.N.: I hope everyone is enjoying this story. :) I know it's a little... odd. And I also know the lovely lostinhersong is also doing an assassin story (;D) but we love assassins XD Bear with me, I have a plan. Stay on the wagon! 3 Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Sacramento was steaming hot. Michiru flipped on the AC and lifted the sword once more. A swipe left the air singing. She panted, sweat collecting on her slim body. A knock came to the door and she lowered the weapon to go to the door, opening it. The pizza boy looked up, then his eyes widened to see the odd contents of the hotel room: books, DVDs, bottled waters, weight sets, clothes, and a katana on the bed, as well as a rather miserable looking mannequin in the corner which had already had a leg cut off and its torso chopped into.

Michiru closed the door behind her and forked out a hundred. "Keep the change for your silence," she hissed, adding a tinge of mysteriousness to her voice to keep the teen wondering. His eyes bugged out to see the generous Ben Franklin and he gave her the stack of pizzas and left.

Michiru shook her head and slid back into her room, opening the box of thick crust pepperoni and banana pepper pizza, extra garlic. She plopped down. "A well deserved meal." She toasted her first slice of pizza to the mannequin and ate.

* * *

On the corner of Cypress Ave and 114th St., Michiru looked from the photo of her father and the mysterious stranger to the street sign. It matched the picture, though it had been updated, the location was undoubtedly the same. The problem had of course been the enhancement of the sign in the enlarged prints, and the common state of the road names. The site on the corner stood vacant of a building, a little league baseball diamond set up on the land now. She smiled some, but her lip twitched. This didn't hold the answer she had so hoped it would.

Her sapphire eyes scanned the block, then settled on a house a few spaces down. Despite that most of the older buildings on the street had been knocked down and rebuilt anew, an old, two-story brick building still stood across the street. It looked almost uninhabited, and Michiru felt something flicker in her memory. She walked down the street towards it, today wearing a pair of khaki slacks and an army green blazer, her hair up in a bun, playing the realtor today. She had a digital camera hanging on her wrist, a snazzy blackberry in her hand she'd stolen off a girl who hadn't been watching close enough. The sword was in a new case, one that hid it well and looked like an umbrella, much more conspicuous as it was over her shoulder.

The house had a stone porch, the steps leading up to it cracked. The windows seemed dark, no curtains there, or perhaps the glass was blackened and reinforced.

Michiru stole a glance around, then strode up the stairs, moving to the large door. She tried the door handle and frowned when it was locked. She took out her lockpick kit only to realize there was no keyhole. Kneeling, she realized the handle looked almost like the handle inside a room, smooth and round and shiny. She leaned closer, chewing her lip, then grinned, realizing the handle was one of Reisho's inventions that he'd given her father to use. He'd made a complex lock on his safe with it, but this handle was a simple version.

"Now for the code...," she muttered. She glanced around, then thought. Instinctively, she tried a number by sliding her finger around the base of the handle, first to the right. Three. Then to the left. Numbers lit under her finger, fading when her touch slid off of them, but the number she selected stayed lit. Zero. She slid her fingertip once again to the right. Six. The handle clicked and Michiru let out a gasp. She left her hand shake. She was close.

She stood, her heart beating wildly, then went in. At first, it was dark inside. The door closed behind her and immediately fluorescent lights flipped on. She jumped, pressing her back to the door, then relaxed. The room was large, the walls concrete and thick, two couches in leather and black metal in the center. A cowhide rug lay on the floor beneath a glass coffee table. Michiru held her breath for a moment, listening, then moved into the room. Her hand slid back and she released the sword from its hiding place, holding it in her hand, nervous. Hanging in one corner was a metal mobile which was made of steel stars and a red sun and blue moon. She smiled some then, it being a larger replica of one she'd had as a baby. Past the couches sat a desk in black steel. She moved to it, trying all the drawers, but found nothing. Confused, she sat in the chair.

"Not even a note?" She seemed dismayed. To her left, she realized, was a door in the concrete, a piece of art on the door blending into the doorknob. She got up and opened it, a long hall inside done in dark wood. Her nose twitched, swearing it smelled cigar smoke. The hall was lined with fine art, the end of it, she could see, leading to another room with dark wood as well. She emerged into a den with a fireplace along one wall, antique chairs in front of it. Art and shelves decorated the walls, and another doorway led to an antique kitchen with an aqua oven and retro white countertops. She raised her brow, peering into another room to see a beautiful bathroom with a pull-flush toilet. A rendez-vous and resting point? Clearly her father had made it based on the door's combination. Or perhaps he had simply had it changed for her?

Michiru moved to one of the chairs, beginning to check every nook and cranny for any clues as to whomever would have stayed here, either her father or the mysterious blond stranger. A quick check under every chair and behind almost all the art pieces wielded nothing, but Michiru knew there was an upstairs. She sheathed the sword and moved to the final painting, one of a pack of spaniels chasing a fox on the hunt. She lifted it and grinned to see a handle set into the wall, the dark wood wall panel being the door. The handle was round and silver. Another number sequence. Michiru thought, then used a number even fewer would know. She used her fingertip to trace the numbers that glowed under her touch. Five. She moved her finger to the left. Two. Then to the right once more. One. The handle clicked and Michiru felt a grin spread over her features.

The panel slid aside to reveal a staircase, as she thought. She went up, the panel closing behind her, the above rooms lighting as it clicked closed. She turned and saw a picture she'd done as a child hanging on the back of the panel. Her fingers slid up to touch it and she felt the pain well in her heart. "I'll make this right, dad," she whispered, and ascended the stairs.

One room alone was upstairs. It was large, the windows to the outside letting in little light, being bulletproof and shaded. She turned her eyes to the office, inhaling, the air having kept her father's smell in the room. It was the smell of cigars and Old Spice. The room itself was done in the same dark wood, the desk large, two chairs sitting in front of it. She moved to sit in his chair, running her hands over the leather which was worn in spots from where her father had sat so often. She sat back, nostalgic.

Her father laughed as she ran around the office toting a paper plane. She remembered now their trip to the zoo, where she saw elephants and zebras and was overjoyed at every living thing there. Afterwards, they got ice cream and her father took her to this house, apologizing that he had to bring her here, but that his business needed tending to. She had played in the office, hiding from nothing under the chairs, stopping when her father became angry, his voice raising as he talked on the phone. She had looked over as he slid his hands slid to the underside of the desk's top. There was a click... she couldn't remember after that.

Michiru's hands slid along the desk's edges, finally underneath the top. They felt around, but felt only screw holes that held the desk together. She frowned. Was the desk different? She sat back, looking at it, trying to remember, but it seemed the same. Her hand searched again and she found the screw holes again. Blinking, she pushed them. One gave way, one didn't. There was a click.

A separate drawer popped down and Michiru heard articles of paper slide forward. Her eyes widened and she immediately sunk to her knees to look, her hands groping for the papers and pulling them out. They fell over her knees. Finally, a little clunk of metal fell to her lap. Looking down, she found a little picture frame with her mother's picture. Michiru felt her heart tug and she looked at it, so few pictures of her mother in existence. She hugged it to her chest for a moment before lowering it to look at the papers.

Most were nothing special, just some numbers on sheets. Some were letters containing bills. One in a cream envelope stuck out and Michiru collected it, sliding out a thin letter on plain notebook paper.

"Matsumo, I'll be at my apartment tonight. Come by and we'll have some drinks. It's been a while. -H"

Michiru's brows furrowed and she frowned, turning over the letter, then looking to the envelope, her heart skipping to see it simply had her father's name on it, and in the upper corner there was a street and apartment number there in Sacramento. "Gotcha," she breathed.

* * *

The streets were dark by the time she found the apartment building. Dogs barked in nearby apartments, music coming from others, and yet others full of yelling or laughter. She looked to the envelope, then up. She wore a pair of jeans and a black corduroy jacket now, the sword in its case. Her hands shook again, though these days she wasn't sure if it was in nervousness or excitement. She tried to concentrate on what she'd read in the books and practiced from the TV. This could be it, she knew. The killer, the mysterious stranger, H, could be in there. Or it could be empty, or otherwise occupied by someone else. She clenched her fist. She had to do this.

Ascending the stairs of the grungy building, she neared apartment 3B, her muscles tensed, ready to spring into action. The third floor came into her view and she moved to the 2nd apartment. The numbers 3B taunted her. She raised her hand to knock, but stopped herself. She gave a glance around, then leaned her ear to the door and listened. Inside there was no sound, not even a television. She swallowed, then took out her lock-picking kit, trying to be silent as she sprung the simple lock, praying there would be no chain lock too. Her hand slid up and she opened the door, feeling luck on her side as it swung open just enough, entirely quiet, no chain hindering her process.

She paused, waiting for footsteps or a voice. Hearing none, she went in. She would only have a peek. If it was the wrong people, she could leave and none would be the wiser. She closed the door behind herself, her movements slow and careful. The apartment smelled of booze and she grimaced, then turned slowly. The TV was off, but the streetlight outside illuminated a ratty couch and an entertainment stand and a chair, a coffee table in the middle covered in beer cans and ashtrays. Her eyes slid over the abode that was nothing like the living quarters of an assassin, or so she assumed. To her left was a kitchen, the oven's clock light showing plenty of bottles and cans on the counters as well. She frowned, moving forward, slowly bringing out the sword, her heart erratic but her breathing slow and careful.

She stepped into the living room and jumped when a cat sprang from the chair by the window and ran into the other room. She nearly cursed, barely managing to bite her tongue. She turned towards the dark apartment's hallway when she heard something move nearby and turned just as the lights flicked on.


	4. Chapter 4

Michiru spun, her eyes wide and she raised the sword to strike in surprise, but a burst of pain hit her in the side of the head before the sword could even slice downward. She saw stars, the sword escaping from her hands as she fell unconscious.

* * *

The room spun as she felt herself coming to. Her breath came in gasps as pain surged in her head. She willed herself to open her eyes despite the throbbing ache behind them. The ceiling was white, a ceiling fan creating most of the light in the dump of a room. Immediately she grasped for her sword only to find it gone.

Suddenly, there was movement beside her and a face peered down at her, obscured by shadow from the dim light above. "Better be careful. I hit you pretty hard."

Michiru frowned, then felt anger well in her gut and forced herself up, backpedaling into the coffee table. The blonde woman stood, her brow knit. Michiru winced, fighting to keep conscious. The woman let out a breath and extended her hand, a glass of water in it, two aspirin already dissolving in the bottom.

The young girl flicked her eyes to where her father's sword lay on the orange carpet. "Don't even think about it," the blonde warned. "Do you even have any idea how to wield that thing?"

Michiru's vision began to focus thoroughly and she found her voice, croaking out. "You killed my father."

Pausing, the blonde almost seemed surprised. She straightened into the light, and Michiru could see now she was young-ish, only looking to be around 30, but there were bags under her eyes. Well, one eye. The other eye was covered by a patch, her furrowed brows making her look grumpy and old. Her blonde hair was shaggy, falling into her face. She wore a grease-stained denim button-up and a pair of gym shorts, seeming to be way past laundry day. She was thin, but her face and stomach were a little filled, presumably from heavy alcohol consumption. Michiru frowned, and so did the woman. "You think that?"

"I... know it." She said with a voice that shook. Her hands didn't quest for the photo, knowing now that this was the woman.

She hesitated, then moved to Michiru, her footsteps heavy. The teen winced, bracing herself, then blinked as the glass with aspirin was set beside her head on the coffee table, the blonde moving into the kitchen. Michiru heard the fridge open and close, then heard the hiss of a pop-tab. The tall woman walked back out with a beer. When she saw Michiru watching, the blonde frowned and looked away. "Don't look at me with those eyes of his," she said.

Michiru frowned. Anyone good enough to kill her father should have killed her within an instant too, unless this woman was planning to kill her later. As the blonde lit a cigarette and puffed on it greedily, Michiru began to seriously doubt it. She sat up slowly. "You knew my father well," she stated.

After another slurp of beer and another drag of the cigarette, the woman nodded. "Matsumo and I were good friends."

"Were," Michiru said. "Until you killed him," she pressed.

The blonde threw down the can, beer spilling everywhere. "I didn't kill him!" She snapped, her grey eye angry, turning a glare at Michiru, who flinched at her tone. "Who the hell do you think you are anyway? Coming in here with the sword I gave him like you know anything!" She yelled, then turned away, her back rising as she inhaled on the cigarette.

Michiru blinked, then felt pity for the woman. "I'm sorry. I can tell I'm wrong," she said, her voice soft. "My name's Michiru."

The blonde snorted and turned to her, her eye looking the girl up and down. "I know who you are. Your dad sent out cards at Christmas until you were 6. I could never forget your hair..." Her eye flickered and she sighed. "Have the aspirin, it'll help."

Michiru frowned, then took the glass and drained it, her head still aching, but at least her eyesight was stable. "Who are you?" she asked when the glass was empty.

A cat strode into the living room, stocky and black with orange flecks. It mewed to Michiru, then rubbed against Haruka's legs. The blonde's eye turned into compassion and she leaned to rub the cat's fur, not answering until Michiru repeated herself. "My name is Haruka. Haruka Tenou." She looked to her. "Your father and I came here, to America, together. We both wanted to get out of the business..."

Michiru gasped and sat up, a little too fast. She hissed and leaned back against the coffee table, managing to groan, "You're an assassin then!"

Haruka grinned. "Born and bred. But, no matter what you think, I didn't kill your father. He was my dearest friend."

"Then what happened? You have to know!" Michiru pressed and slowly sat up, holding her head. An aluminum bat lay on the floor. Haruka pushed it sheepishly under the couch.

"I don't know, to be truthful. At least... not entirely."

"Tell me what you know!" she demanded.

Haruka set her beer down after draining it and moved to the couch to sit, smelling of that night's alcohol. Michiru's nose wrinkled, but she crawled to sit beside her, her eyes scanning the couch for any throwing stars or sharp blades of death. The blonde watched her, seeming amused. Michiru expected her question answered when the blonde began to speak.

"Where did you train anyway? Your skills are..."

"I taught myself."

"Non-existant."

Michiru scowled. "It wasn't that bad."

"Did you ever even fight someone?"

The teen's scowl increased. "It's not that simple! Someone killed my father, what was I supposed to do? Go into the police station with my learner's permit and say I wanted to learn how to yield deadly weaponry?"

Despite her crude exterior, the blonde cracked a smile. "You remind me of him."

Michiru blushed despite herself, then finally turned her eyes to the apartment. The furniture had a certain charm under all the bottles and cans. The TV was old and dusty, and on it sat a bottle of wine and a framed picture of a group of people, her father and Haruka included, as well as an elderly man, a young adult man, and Lady Anouke, looking much younger than she was just a few months prior. Michiru got up to look at it, frowning, then looked to the gruff blonde.

"I... thought you killed him because someone left this photo." She took out the polaroid and passed it to the assassin, who looked at it.

"Ah. This was when I completed training. I was 16 then. The youngest graduate in my class. Your dad was 20 then, if I remember. We were inseparable. Wing-men til the end," she laughed, and Michiru's heart melted for her, feeling sorry for her and wanting to comfort the friend of her father's. "This was just a year before you were born."

"You saw me?" Michiru asked. She moved to sit again, her headache fading, leaving a dull murmur of an ache in the side of her head. She forced herself to think clearly, knowing little about her own past. Perhaps it had just been her father's nature, but he so rarely talked about her mother or himself.

"Saw you, ha! I helped raise you til you were two years old. After Kana...," she shook her head and looked to Michiru. "You've really grown up."

Michiru frowned, having so many questions, but one pressing to her mind above all. "Can you teach me how to be an assassin?"

Haruka blinked, then chuckled. "Just like your father. So eager. Well," she paused. "It can't be here. People tend to notice when you go grocery shopping covered in cuts and bruises." She laughed.

* * *

Michiru looked uncertainly to the old station wagon as Haruka loaded some duffel bags into it the next morning. The blonde today wore a pair of tattered jeans, a cream colored button-up that may have been white at some point, and an old brown blazer, a cigarette in her hand. "I thought that assassins got paid well?"

Haruka looked to her. "Are you doubting the reliability of old Jo?" She patted the car, which creaked. Michiru looked skeptical. Haruka sighed. "I don't have much left."

"Well... can't you just go knock off some Mafia leader and get some more?"

Haruka looked to her and blinked, then chuckled. "No, kid. Not anymore. I'm retired."

"You're, like, 33," Michiru said.

"I'm retired," Haruka snapped and Michiru pursed her lips, watching her go back inside for a few more bags and the cat. Michiru sighed and put her backpack in the car. She bit her lip, then slipped $10,000 into the blonde's bag from her own. She smiled just a little and went to get into the car. When the blonde emerged, she put the cat into the backseat of the dirty station wagon.

"Where are we going anyway?" Michiru asked as Haruka climbed into the driver's seat.

Haruka looked at her, then grinned and slid sunglasses down over her tired-looking eyes, the sun rising above Sacramento. "The desert."


	5. Chapter 5

Although her travels had taken her all over the world, Michiru had barely seen any of the United States itself. "Where exactly are we going?" she asked as they passed the state line into Nevada, the roads looking more and more sandy, the windows down when trusty Jo's air conditioner failed to work.

"Well," Haruka thought out loud, one arm out the window, grasping for wind. "About halfway between the towns of Caliente and Goldfield."

Michiru looked to the map and frowned. "Isn't that where Area 51 supposedly is?"

Haruka chuckled in response. "Well, I suppose the government would rather people think there were aliens than assassins, hm?"

Michiru turned her sapphire eyes to Haruka, her mouth hanging open.

* * *

Michiru was asleep by the time they reached the extensive compound in the middle of the desert. Haruka glanced to her, then woke her. "You're going to want to see," she said.

The girl rubbed her eyes and sat up in her seat with a yawn. The area was surrounded in barbed fence, nothing around for a mile, it seemed. They came to the gate of the fence, a security guard shack out front. Haruka stopped in front of it, leaning over to rifle through the glove box, finally pulling out a plastic badge, which she flashed to the security guard. The guard looked to Michiru. "Need a visitor pass?"

Haruka looked to Michiru, then shook her head. "She'll be getting an official permanent pass in the head office."

The guard nodded and pushed a button, the gate cranking open. They drove in, cruising down a wide road towards several white buildings. "But then...," she paused. "What are all the buildings for?"

The blonde woman looked to her with a grin. "Weapons."

* * *

They drove past several long white buildings, finally coming to a steel bunker. Haruka lumbered from the car, the headlights on the building's entrance. The blonde unlocked the doors and struggled to open them, wheezing. Michiru raised a brow and moved to help her. "This is why you need to quit cigarettes," she told her.

"What?" They got the doors open, Haruka panting and coughing. "I'm just out of shape."

"And you said I'm the one who needs trained," Michiru smirked, turning her eyes to the building's dark interior. She frowned, peering in as Haruka found the lightswitch and flicked it on. The building's fluorescent lights rumbled to life, each flipping on one by one down the bunker's long interior.

The bunker was lined with white beds, a kitchenette and table and generator to her right, at least everything clean. Along the back was a curtain and, Michiru hoped, a bathroom. "How many people live here?"

"Well," Haruka retrieved a bag from the car, finding an unused bed. "When we were here," she said nostalgically. "57, I believe. We hired people to clean weapons, cook, clean, like laundry and things, guard the premises. And then there were the trainees. There were never more than 5 at a time."

"Wait," Michiru stopped her, confused. "You trained assassins too? I mean, I guess obviously, but... how many assassins are there? Reisho gave me several numbers, I never imagined there were..."

"Many? I'm sure not even Reisho knows. He's just an information man. An agent of sorts." The blonde woman sat on the bed she'd selected. "Only a few stay in the business very long. It's hard on you..." She looked distant for a moment. "When your dad and I ran this place for a year, we trained 20 or so. Only 16 survived to actually enlist with anyone."

Michiru sat in the bed beside Haruka's, setting her sword's case on the bed. "Then, what about the photo? Where does that come in?"

Haruka blinked and then smiled. "As I said, it was when I finished training. Your dad already ran the place, but I was his favorite. Your dad knew eventually I'd get signed and go away somewhere. We had just bought the house to renovate for our purposes. A layover place, I suppose. Also for rendezvous and storing our most precious things. I haven't been there in years, truthfully."

Michiru nodded and frowned, then lay back on her bed. "Who runs it now?"

"Well, after your dad left because he wanted to raise your ass," the gruff blonde poked her side and Michiru gave her a smile. "He left it to his friend, who we will see in a little bit, I'm sure. General Abel Stark."

"One of the people in the photo?" She pulled out the photo from Haruka's TV from her bag and the blonde snatched it, using her one eye to glare at the girl. Haruka turned her eyes to the framed photo.

"Yes, and don't steal."

Michiru raised a brow at her.

"Don't steal... from friends."

A security guard came in, giving Michiru a glimpse of life on the base where she had been beginning to think there was none. "General Stark will see you now, ladies."

The transport vehicle rumbled to a quaint house on the back of the property. They went up the steps, Haruka raising her hand to knock when a voice told them to come in. The blonde opened the door and they went in, the first room, which should have been a living room, being an office. A man sat at the desk, one Michiru recognized immediately from the photo Haruka had possessed. He was signing papers, his hair a little more gray than in the picture, and when he looked up there were two long scars on his neck and lower jaw. Haruka moved to shake his hand, seeming genuinely happy for the first time.

"Tenoh! You old dog. What's it been? 6 years? What brings you to ye olde Area 51?" He chuckled and turned his eyes to Michiru, sitting back. "I see. I need no explanation if she's here." He opened his desk and took out a notepad, jotting a quick note, looking to Michiru. "Your father was one of my best friends. Loyal til the end to any of us. It'll be our honor to teach you."

Michiru frowned. "How did you know why I came here?"

He handed her a note. "Because we all know what revenge looks like. Take that note into the secretary down the hall. Give her the information she asks for. It will be your permanent pass to this place."

Michiru nodded, looking to Haruka, then left them to talk, finding the secretary's office. The petite woman sat behind a desk, typing into a computer. She lifted her eyes and smiled, taking off her glasses. "You must be Michiru."

The girl smiled some. "Yes, how..."

"I know you'll get tired of hearing it, so I'll just tell you almost everyone here knew your father. He was a great man." She printed out a plastic tag, reaching into her desk to pull out a clear badge holder and a lanyard. "You'll need this to gain access to the facility, so never lose it." She gave her the badge and smiled. "Don't worry, you're in good hands here. My husband will make sure you get all the training you'll need."

Michiru blinked, opening her mouth to ask questions, but was hauled out by Haruka. "Come on, kid. It's meal time and I don't know about you, but I happen to like liver in a can."

* * *

That night, laying in bed, Michiru wondered if her father had ever slept in that very bunker. She listened to the soft conservations or snoring of the men and women around her and felt at home for the first time. No doubt back home they'd be wondering where she was, absent from school for so long. No doubt the rumors ran wild as each day the school's truancy officers came back without her. Was her face on milk cartons? Or did the police hunt her as a suspect? Did they believe her father's killer had kidnapped her? She felt amused by that. She folded her hands under her head, then looked over, the dim light of the singular lamp above illuminating Haruka's gruff face, her eye patch a black hole in the darkness. Michiru blushed, wondering what had happened, how someone could mar the blonde's handsome face. She stared for a moment when the woman's eyes flicked open.

Haruka blinked sleepily at her. "What is it, kid?"

"Will I learn how to do that?" she asked.

"Do what?" Haruka replied and yawned.

Michiru grinned. "Sense people watching me while I'm sleeping."

"I wasn't sleeping." Haruka rolled her eye. "What's on your mind?"

"I was just wondering...," she whispered.

"Mmhm?" Haruka had closed her eye.

"Did you and my father ever have a thing?"

Haruka's eye shot open and she let out a cough, causing several around them to 'Shhh!' sharply. "No!" she whispered, hushed, then shook her head at Michiru's look. "No. We didn't. My tastes... put it this way... at the bar, we usually never knew which one would go home with the girl." She chuckled.

Michiru felt heat rise to her cheeks and giggled into her hand softly. "I see. Good night," she said then and gave the blonde a smile, rolling onto her stomach and tucking her arms under herself. Beside her, she heard the click of a lighter and the smell of a puff of smoke. Michiru shook her head and closed her eyes to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Michiru looked at Haruka over a bowl of frosted flakes. "So, once I complete this training, you'll tell me all you know."

The blonde looked at her, her good eye a light grey today. "Yes. I will. If you complete it."

"I know, I know, reckless me." She sighed, stirring around her cereal. "Do you know anything?"

Haruka frowned and put her hand over Michiru's. "I think I do. Please, be patient." She lifted her hand, stroking Michiru's face. "I know it hurts."

The girl looked up, but Haruka didn't meet her eyes. The blonde stood, taking her coffee out of the cafeteria to smoke a cigarette.

* * *

The first day of training didn't exactly go as Michiru had thought. Perhaps she had expected... guns. Death. Torture. Perhaps a little maiming. Instead, she was seated on the floor of one of the long white buildings, on a soft straw mat. The building was sound proof, and it was the first of the white buildings Michiru had seen. This one was decorated with tatami mats, a little water fountain in the corner for 'atmosphere', as Haruka had told her. The walls were stacked with shelves of Japanese style weapons, making Michiru wonder if each building was a different country.

"Concentrate," Haruka growled, circling where Michiru sat. The blonde popped open a beer, sipping it and Michiru shook her head. This owned her a gentle boot in the side. "I mean it."

"How can I concentrate? This is so boooring. My feet are asleep! I think even my butt is asleep!" she whined, flopping back to lay on the mat. Haruka stood over her, her one eye amused.

"Well, well, princess, giving up on the first day?"

"Oh, you're hilarious," she quipped and sat up. "Please tell me the purpose of this."

Haruka drank the rest of her beer in a long chug and sighed. "If you don't have focus, how can you hope to fulfill your objective?"

"I will have focus when I have to!"

The blonde shook her head. "You must be ready, on alert at all times. Even in the apartment your focus was lacking. I took you out easily."

"Yes, and look at you," she smirked and the blonde directed a glare beam in her direction. Michiru grinned. "Kidding. How long do I have to do this?"

"Well, first, honestly, we have to see if you're anything at all like your father. If you hold any potential at all, then we move you into the accelerated course."

"And... how long is that?" Michiru moved her numb foot and winced.

"At minimum, 6 months."

"6 months!" She yelled and got up, her teeth gritting as her feet protested. "I don't have time for that! What if the killer leaves where you know they'd be! I can't afford to waste my time here!"

The blonde looked at her, then shook her head. "I'll tell you what, kitten. You fight me. Weapon of your choice. If you win, I will teach you everything you truly need to know in 3 months. If I win, you do as I say and learn to be an assassin the way they teach at this academy. Deal?" She stuck out her hand, which was rough and calloused and scarred. Michiru looked to it, frowning, then moved to Haruka, shaking her hand, her own petite and soft. Haruka's long fingers slid around her own and the blonde touched Michiru's cheek. "Don't forget then, when I kick your ass." She smirked and let go.

* * *

Michiru selected a short staff, figuring her childhood experience playing with sticks would give her some kind of advantage. She let out a breath. There was a snowball's chance in hell she'd beat Haruka, but somewhere Michiru some kind of 'power of the assassin' would emerge from her.

She faced Haruka, who had no weapon and frowned. "Just making it even, princess," the blonde grinned and put up her hands. Haruka appeared different today, even though she still drank a beer now and then and puffed on cigarettes like a freight train. Her unruly blonde hair had been trimmed nicely. She wore a green tanktop and a pair of black army shorts, her legs still muscled, though Michiru could see a scar on her right knee. She raised her short staff.

The confident blonde lunged to her, and Michiru stepped aside, flinching, but swung her staff down, knocking the woman directly on the knee. She heard a grunt of pain and the blonde fell to the floor. She turned, her eyes wide, Haruka giving her a glare before the blonde swung her other leg and took Michiru's feet out from under her. The girl fell to the floor and Haruka pounced on her, raising her fist to punch. Michiru stiffened and moved her head to the left, then the right, ejecting Haruka from her body with her knees. They panted by now and she raised her little staff, trying to move as she left she should.

The blonde shook her head. "You're trying too hard!"

"I'll beat you how I want!" the girl growled and moved across the space, bringing down the staff, but she gasped, the wind knocked from her chest as the blonde's fist met her stomach. She slumped against Haruka's shoulder, the staff out of her hands. She grasped for Haruka's arm, sliding to the floor, where she promptly threw up breakfast.

Haruka sighed above her, taking off her shirt to wipe the girl's mouth as she knelt. "Please, trust me. In 6 months, I am sure you will be able to find what you're looking for no problem. Come on, little Kaiou. To the showers with you."

* * *

Michiru lay in bed, angry that night. Her fingers drummed on her lap. She could have won. "Ok," she sighed. "So I couldn't have..." But she didn't understand her own frustration. She knew Haruka wasn't holding out. Perhaps it was just the excitement. She'd come so far only to be stopped for 6 months. She was so close to the answer only to have it taken from in front of her until she could handle herself. "I'm fine," she insisted to herself as she rolled onto her side, restless. Assassins' blood boiled in her veins. That must stand for something!

She glanced back to see if Haruka was awake, but the blonde was snoring softly. Her eyes scanned the others, considering if she'd even get in trouble. She was her own person, after all. She slid from bed, collecting training clothes from the shelf beside her bed. She selected a white gi and slid from the bunker, a blast of hot desert air greeting her. She looked side to side, looking to her badge before making her way to the white buildings. Number 5 was the Japanese center. She selected number 3, moving to the door. She looked to the badge reader, then slid hers, the light going green. A grin spread across her features.

She opened the door and went in, the lights flicking on. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropping. The entire building was shelves of guns, from pistols to machine guns, even sniper rifles. The room itself was a long shooting range with a variety of targets. A console told her they may move as well. She let out her breath, beyond amazed. "Time to shoot stuff."

* * *

A.N.: I hope you are all enjoying this! :D I am many chapters ahead, luckily, and should be done soon IRL. Please read and review!


	7. Chapter 7

Michiru managed to dodge the first obstacle, but was unprepared for the swinging log. It hit her in the side, knocking her into the wall. When she came to, Haruka stood over her, amused, then sighed. "You're still not focusing."

The girl groaned and sat up, lifting her shirt to see her ribs a bit bruised. "I made it through most of the course!"

"Yes, but not the last part. Until you make it through all of it without repercussion, you're not ready." She took a sip of her beer and moved back to her seat, leaving an irritated Michiru. It was 3 months into her training, the girl quite antsy to complete it.

Michiru stood, wincing, her ribs aching, though she fought to show no pain. "Then what about you?"

Haruka looked up to her with her one good eye and raised a brow. "Me?"

"Yea...," Michiru stuck out her chin. "You. All... out of shape and flabby."

The blonde looked surprised, pausing with her beer halfway between her lap and lips. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Michiru smirked coyly. "Just sitting there, getting old and developing liver failure."

The woman stood, setting her beer down. She had intended for herself to look statuesque and fearsome, though as the young assassin looked nonchalantly at her, she deflated some. "Fine. I admit I've fallen into hard times..."

Michiru crossed her arms.

"Okay! So I got fat!"

"Then why am I working my ass off out here? I like I think I've already got good assets."

The blonde raised her brow, fighting to not examine those assets for herself. "What are you getting at? I'm already an assassin."

"Not with that beer belly you're not."

"Hey! You are heading on a one way street to Pain-ville, young lady, and I am the mayor."

Michiru grinned. "Another complimentary donut, mayor?"

The blonde growled and leapt at the younger girl, who giggled and dodged out of the way. Haruka chased her, giving up after a few seconds, panting. "Okay, okay." She put her hand up, holding her side. "What is the purpose of this?"

"Oh, as though I planned it. Perhaps I just think you should be doing some work too, instead of watching me all the time." The teen smirked. Haruka laughed.

"I can tone up very easily, little girl."

"And stop drinking?"

Haruka slumped. "What? Yes, okay, fine."

"And stop smoking?"

"Now you're pushing it!" She whined.

Michiru crossed her arms. Haruka groaned. "Fine. And stop smoking."

The teen smiled. "Assassin's word?"

"There's no such thing." Haruka rolled her eye.

"Shall we exchange blood then or something?" the girl replied sarcastically. Haruka chuckled and moved to shake her hand. "Shall we make it a bet?" the teen asked but Haruka shook her head.

"I believe a bet is what landed you in this extended stay in the first place, princess."

"What? Afraid I'll win?" In the three months since she had begun her real training, Michiru's confidence had grown despite her shortcomings. She was lousy with a gun and still not fast enough in agility training. Still, she was becoming stronger each day, her body lightly defined, her face acquiring a flattering yet dominant line to it. Her hair reached to her mid waist now, but she braided it today, tying it with a green shoelace. For clothes she wore a green tanktop and a pair of khaki pants which clung to her legs. She was barefoot, preferring it.

The blonde woman stood a little straighter. She was almost the same as she had been when Michiru had found her. She still had something of a gut, though her demeanor was a little more confident now that she was back in her element. "And what will we wager? What will be the prize?"

"Well, if I come to best you as an assassin...," Michiru moved thoughtfully to a wall with photos on it, many with Haruka in them surrounded by other assassins, some whose names she knew and most she didn't. She touched a photo of her father and frowned. "Then you answer all of my questions. About this place, the work my father did, my mother...," she turned to the tall blonde. "And you."

Haruka looked to her, then away. "And if I best you? When I become the assassin I once was."

"If," the girl said. "What would you want?"

Haruka turned away from her and took the last swig of her beer before crumpling the can with her hand. She considered for a moment, then turned her eyepatch to the girl. "If I win, then no questions."

* * *

Michiru fell into bed with a huff, still wet with sweat. She rubbed her face on her pillow, then looked over as Haruka flopped down beside her, the sweat on her neck glimmering in the soft light of the bunker. She panted, then grinned. "I... I think I won the race."

The blonde chuckled and turned her eye to the girl. "Yeah right. I beat you by a long shot."

"As if!" she laughed softly and rolled onto her back, chugging some water, the men and women around them still awake mostly, murmuring. The teen smiled to herself, listening to their talk, amazed how content she was in that place. She jumped when she felt something brush her arm and looked to Haruka, who smirked, her eye mischievous.

"Some assassin you'll make. You're still jumpy."

"I'll get better! It's only 4 months..."

"Uh huh, should be better now," she teased and before Michiru could retort she shoved a long box in the girl's face. "Here."

Michiru looked surprised. "What's this for...?"

"It's your birthday. Isn't it?"

The girl sat up, then blinked. "It is... I'm 17 today."

The blonde bit her lip, then sat beside her bed, lifting her hand. She paused, then stroked Michiru's cheek. The young assassin looked to her favorite teacher and smiled some, a sadness in her sapphire eyes. "Open the gift, Michiru," she said softly.

Michiru looked to the long package wrapped in brown paper. She opened it, finding a black box. She looked to Haruka before opening it, her eyes widening to see a golden bracelet. Its links were thin and looped together, an elegant coiling clasp at one end. There was a single charm on it, a golden dolphin there.

The blonde waited, tense, then frowned, impatient. "Do you like it?"

Michiru laughed and moved, hugging her teacher, the gruff blonde wrapping her arms around Michiru's waist. "It's gorgeous. Thank you." She lifted her hand. "Put it on me?"

"Oh... with training and all, I'm not so sure..."

"Please? It's my good luck charm." The girl smiled and Haruka blushed despite herself. In 4 months she'd found herself falling for the confident, headstrong brat. She put the bracelet on Michiru's wrist and bid her goodnight. As she lay in bed, she closed her eye. Michiru could never love someone like her. Someone with one eye, a lot of scars, and even more baggage. She heard Michiru roll over in her bed and glanced over to watch her. Their age was another factor, though Haruka could overlook it. Still, she feared losing their silly bet. She feared the questions the girl would and could ask. She feared the truth.


	8. Chapter 8

The hot desert sun beat down on the sand and pale plants of Nevada's earth. It radiated back upwards, making fake oasis in the distance. Michiru felt sweat slide down the profile of her nose. Her sapphire eyes scanned the barren bushes, the gun pitched to her side. She wore all khaki, a khaki hat on her head with a khaki shade to keep the nape of her neck covered. She sipped from a canteen quickly, then took off around the side of bush as the wind kicked up to obscure her tracks. She crouched beside a tumbleweed, waited, then darted behind a group of cacti.

For miles around, it seemed, there was no movement. Sometimes Michiru saw the occasional snake slither by or the momentary quiver of a plant, but she couldn't see anything. She strained her ears, hearing the distant call of a vulture.

The young assassin quieted her breath, concentrating as she slowed her heart beat, pushing all other noise from her body and area. The click of a spider's feet, the scurry of a rodent into a hole. She focused deeper. The call of the wind, the soft scuttle of something nearby. Her pupils dilated and she turned, her eyes focusing dead on her silent predator. She pulled the trigger in an instant and heard a soft cry.

"Ha!" She jumped up and ran, her eyes on the dirt colored target as she shot again and again, the pop of the gun filling the air.

"Uncle! Ow! My ass! You little brat!"

Michiru relented and lifted her gun onto her shoulder, a grin on her lips. Haruka lay at her feet, covered in bright pink splatters of paint. One splatter was positioned on her eyepatch.

The teen knelt at her side, concern in her eyes. She touched the blonde's cheek, Haruka raising a grey eye to her. She leaned down, her brows furrowing in sympathy and apology. Haruka felt her mouth go drier than the sands. Michiru's cheek barely grazed her own as the girl leaned down, closer, closer, her perfume a mix of Michiru's personal scent and jasmine. Finally, she felt the girl exhale against her ear. Michiru smirked coyly. "Checkmate."

"I demand a rematch!" Haruka yelled in the middle of the mess hall everyone in the clean white building either laughing or staring at her, the patch of pink still over her guarded eye. "Kaiou!"

* * *

Michiru, who was innocently munching on an apple as she sat elegantly on one of the cafeteria tables, turned, her sapphire eyes big and soft. "Oh, what, is Big Bad Tenoh having a hard time accepting defeat?" Her voice was a cooing pout and it made Haruka's blood boil.

"Now!" she threw a kendo sword in the girl's direction and Michiru caught it without flinching. Haruka raised her own weapon, her eye dark with anger and frustration, and perhaps a little wounding of the pride.

The young assassin stood, then climbed onto the table. Mouths fell agape at her actions, many looking to General Stark, who put down his napkin and grinned, looking between the heated women. On top of the table, Michiru stood, statuesque, her training completed. She was a focused killer, capable of things other pupils had taken years to learn, and more. She showed no fear against her blonde teacher, and General Stark gave a knowing grin.

Haruka stood taller. She was slimmer now, her body taut and muscled. The dark circles under her eyes were diminished, her hair neatly trimmed yet windswept. Stark was reminded of the old days when Haruka could have found, outrun, outfought, and killed anyone.

"Well? Best two of three? Winner take all." Michiru's voice was cool, calm, like water in a steady stream. She lifted her practice sword and with a flick of her head sent her braid over her shoulder. Haruka stepped closer, and took her stance. Within a moment the congregation cleared off the tables, leaving General Stark perhaps even more amused. So rarely did such a battle take place. He knew these two assassins were the best, and their fight was real.

Haruka struck out first, her long, sleek legs carrying her easily to Michiru. She swung the sword like a battle axe and tried to sweep out the girl's feet. Michiru jumped and came down striking, their practice swords clashing. Michiru's eyes flashed with excitement as she gazed just inches away into Haruka's stormy sight. She jumped back and twirled, jumping from the table, her sword landing against her teacher's back. Haruka fell forward and kicked her leg back, catching the girl off guard. Michiru fell back into a table and slid underneath it quickly. The blonde followed overhead, striking down at her, but the young assassin rolled from the other side, the kendo sword tight against her chest.

Haruka leapt and raised the play sword, crashing down, the tip of the weapon meeting tile. Michiru kicked her knee and sent her teacher tumbling, Haruka's sword whipping back to smack Michiru's upper arm with a loud crack. Michiru hissed and jumped onto the table, bringing her sword down again and again, the lean blonde parrying her blows until Michiru dropped to the tabletop to kick the blonde's chest. In a second, between Haruka's descent to the floor and the entire crowd's jaws dropping, Michiru stood above her teacher, the blunt tip of the kendo sword poised to her throat and clavicle.

They both panted, Michiru's eyes still excited, yet happy. She dropped the sword and offered her hand to the blonde. Haruka frowned, slapping the girl's hand as she stood, walking out, angry.

Michiru frowned, stunned, and watched her go for a moment before following her out after discarding her sword.

Haruka ran to the far reaches of the compound, finally reaching fence. She kicked it, then punched it, the metal jingling under her knuckles. She swore loudly, then punched the innocent fence again.

Michiru was hot on her trail, frowning at her friend and teacher's actions. "What's wrong? You've been acting so... so... immature since this morning. Did I hurt your pride?"

Haruka stopped, her nostrils flaring, and she turned. "I take it back."

The girl frowned and blinked. "Take what back?"

"The bet. I take it all back. I won't tell you anything."

Michiru frowned and stood, surprised. "...Why?" Her voice was soft, the desert wind blowing between them. There was hurt in her eyes, for she had worked for this moment not only for answers, but to make Haruka proud. "Are you angry at me?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

For the first time in months, Michiru felt her lip tremble, tears slipping from her eyes. "We came all this way... spent all this time... just for you to clam up and decide you're too butthurt to tell me a damn thing?"

Haruka was by her in a second, pushing her to the ground, Michiru's eyes widening in shock as she looked up to her, her teacher having not shown her anger since the day they had met. Seeing her student's fearful eyes, Haruka felt shame pierce her heart. She stood, uncertain. "Just... let me alone, Michiru." She walked off, not knowing what else to do. Her mind raced. Why did she do that to her?

Haruka went to her room, gathering some things before going to General Stark's office, the man behind his desk once more. "I need a Jeep."


	9. Chapter 9

The lights of Vegas could be so addicting. The sounds of the slots, the jangle of coins and dice, and the smell of beer and money. The blonde wore a tuxedo as she crossed the red carpeted floor with a never-ending glass of Grey Goose in her hand. Her grey eye scanned the tables, watching the laughing faces. At last, she came to a suitable blackjack table and sat, setting down her money chips and her drink. She barely noticed the woman to her left or the man beside her. She placed her bet, not caring if she lost, but chuckling softly when she won.

"A good play, sir," the voice beside her was soft, a seductive purr. Haruka grinned, cocky and perhaps a little drunk, and turned her eye to the woman, seeing first her ruby red dress that clung to every curve of her body, then her pale neck, her deep red lips, and finally her sparkling sapphire eyes, the woman's brunette hair rolled into elegant waves. Haruka opened her mouth to speak, finding herself caught in those blue eyes.

"Sir?" the dealer asked, and Haruka blushed and snapped out of it. She shook her head and got up, taking her meager winnings.

"Time to retire for the night, I guess," she chuckled and glanced once more to the brunette, who was gazing at her. She tore her eye away from that enticing gaze and stumbled back to the bar for one more refresher before venturing away from the bright lights and music, into the white marble hall of the Luxor. She slid into the elevator alone, and glad of it as she pressed the button for her floor and leaned against the wall.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slid into the door, which opened, much to Haruka's chagrin, but she straightened when the gorgeous brunette from the floor strode in. Haruka now got a good glimpse of her shapely calves and silver shoes as the woman's dress parted around them with her steps. The brunette clicked her floor then stepped to the opposite side of the elevator. The car dinged and Haruka watched the door close. Soft music played from somewhere.

The blonde stood awkwardly, trying not to look, but soon her eyes drifted to the woman, whose curves seemed unworldly. She greedily took them in, her face becoming hot when she was too late to look away when she was caught staring.

"See something you like?" the woman drawled in an accent Haruka was too tipsy to place.

"Uh... um... I'm sorry. I'm... probably drunk. Or dreaming," she chuckled and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Dreaming?" Haruka tried to think. Was it a southern accent? But those eyes...

"Yeah, sorry. Women as gorgeous as you don't talk to a loner like me every day." She shot her a smirk only to jump to see the woman just a foot away from her.

"What if I can prove you're not dreaming?" her voice was like velvet, pure sex. Haruka swallowed, anxious.

"How?"

There was the soft sound of silk on polyester as the woman pressed against her, kissing her deeply. Haruka could smell her perfume, hot and spicy musk, and it mixed with the liquor, making her dizzy. She moaned against the woman's soft lips, her hands needing no invitation as they scoured her body, squeezing her curvy behind. The brunette let out a surprised gasp, then a giggle slid from her throat.

Haruka looked up as the elevator chimed her floor and groaned, then found her boldness. "Wanna come to my room?" She looked down into those sapphire eyes, her insides hot.

The brunette grinned and took Haruka's hand, leading her from the elevator.

* * *

The pounding on the door made Haruka jump from her dreaming memory, her beer spilling all over the floor, as well as the cheap poker chips from the tiny casino she'd visited. She grumbled and slid on her eye patch, standing. The pounding resumed and she growled. "I'm coming!"

She grasped the door handle, blinking away sleep, forgetting to check the door's view hole. Before her, in the blinking, dying light of the grungy hallway, Michiru stood, her eyes angry. She pushed into the room, the blonde frowning.

"How did you..."

"Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you? You're lucky Stark told me your alias, Miss Kay Azur. More like Miss Drinks-too-much-to-get-up-and-answer-her-damn-phone!" The shorter girl raved, her eyes dark with hysterics. She paced the room, glaring in the direction of the many tiny liquor bottles and beer cans, and Haruka frowned, watching her. The smaller girl wore a black blouse and a pair of khakis, looking all of an Area 51 recruit.

"What are you wearing...?" the woman asked, rubbing her aching forehead.

Michiru stopped and turned to her, her jaw dropping. She then shook her head, angry. "I come all this way to find your temperamental ass and you care about what I'm wearing?" Her voice rose in pitch.

Haruka frowned, then put on a drunken smirk, her voice deep with sleep. "This is Vegas, baby."

The young assassin threw her arms up.

"Oh, you think you're going anywhere? No. No! I want answers. You had no right to speak to me like that at the base, and...!"

"Did you come all this way to bitch at me, princess?" the blonde asked after her shower the next morning. She rubbed her back after combing her hair, her muscles stiff after she'd slept on the couch and Michiru had kept the hotel's bed to herself.

Michiru frowned then, and shook her head, her voice finally soft. "No. I was worried. I thought you had left me... us," she corrected quickly. "Stark was worried."

Haruka snorted, examining her hair in the mirror once more, wearing the suit she'd managed to wipe the beer off of. "Stark wouldn't be worried for his own foot even if it were about to fall off. He'd simply tell it to go its own way." She walked from the bathroom and frowned at Michiru's glare. "Come out with me."

"No," the girl said firmly.

"I can get you a fake ID in 15 minutes."

"No," Michiru repeated, seated on the dingy bed.

"Please? I want to buy you something nice to wear to the casino. I stole some rich asshole's credit card" She meant it, wanting to see Michiru in something other than sweats and khakis. The blonde sighed and moved to sit beside her. "I'm sorry," she said deliberately. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Will you talk to me?" the girl asked, her arms crossed. Haruka uncrossed them, pulling her into a hug, inhaling her innocent perfume.

"I promise."

* * *

"This makes my ass look huge. Are you serious?" She turned in the Banana Republic dressing area, examining herself in the mirror, frowning. The dress clung to her waist then flared out, making her hips look huge.

Behind her, the blonde chuckled. "It's not terrible."

Michiru turned to glare at her and Haruka grinned, then stood. She moved to the rack they had picked out and shifted through the dresses. She bit her lip, finally pulling out a ruby red halter-topped dress that would fall to the girl's lower thigh. The blonde turned, looking at the dress, then gave it to Michiru. "This one. Trust me."

The aqua haired girl examined the dress, then smiled some and went to put it on in the dressing room. When she emerged, Haruka felt her breath catch in her throat. The dress framed Michiru's pale clavicle and decollete, the soft curve of her breasts barely peeking above the neckline, hugging them, then clinging to her waist and hips, flowing down over her thighs. The girl had selected a pair of brown t-strap leather sandals.

Haruka stood. "That. Come on, we'll wear it out."

Michiru blinked and turned to the mirror, admiring herself almost shyly. "Do you like it?"

The blonde moved to Michiru's back, slowly tracing her fingertips over Michiru's shoulder. Michiru's eyes met hers in the mirror. "You look like someone I used to know, a long time ago..."


	10. Chapter 10

"Yoko... Aikito?" the young attendant read, his brow knitting in confusion. He turned his eyes back to the gorgeous aqua-haired woman, who certainly didn't look 22.

Michiru smiled and nodded. "Hai." She took her fake ID back, bowing a little. "Arigato," she said cheerfully and slid into the casino.

Not far behind her was Tomokuro Aikito, who smirked and took her hand, admiring the diamond ring on the girl's ring finger.

"A nice touch," her 'husband' said and she grinned.

"You act like I didn't learn how to disguise myself, Tomokuro," she teased.

"Hey hey!" the blonde sighed and shoved her card into her pocket as they transversed the brightly colored carpet floor, Michiru making a beeline for the slot machines, her new Gucci purse containing nearly $40,000 cash. Haruka smirked and lifted her finger for a scantily clad waitress, who gave her the googly eyes and came over hips blazing.

"Hey gorgeous," the blonde said, her charisma oozing from her pores despite her eyepatch and the scars littering her jaw and neck.

The waitress made more googly eyes, which made the eavesdropping Michiru silently seethe. She walked over, sliding her arm around Haruka's waist, looking to the waitress. "Oh, could my husband and I have two dirty martinis, please? No olives. Right, love?" She turned her sapphire eyes to Haruka, who scowled.

The waitress pouted a tiny bit and nodded, walking off. When she glanced backwards to Haruka, Michiru grasped the blonde's cheek and leaned up, kissing her deeply. She felt her heart flutter and felt Haruka tense, then return her kiss.

Haruka felt a shiver zing up her spine and she greedily returned the girl's kiss, whether Michiru's motive was jealousy on the young waitress's part or not. She turned, sliding her fingers into the girl's hair, becoming the dominating one as she kissed her young charge. Michiru's hands slid to her shoulders, holding her close, giving the blonde's lip a shy nibble.

The gruff assassin pulled away, blushing, and cleared her throat. "Um... slots?"

Michiru's eyes were shy and deep sapphire, making Haruka stare. She leaned to give the girl one more soft kiss before moving to the slot machines. Michiru hesitated, then followed, going to get change and two cups for them. She plopped beside the blonde a moment later, giving her the plastic cup full of change as the music roared overhead.

She leaned in close, able to smell Haruka's cologne then. "Who is it?"

The blonde slid a few quarters into the machine and looked at her. "What?"

She raised her voice, ignoring her own machine. "Who is it I remind you of?"

Haruka chuckled and shook her head. "Not now, kitten."

"Why not now? You promised." She frowned, her lips still tingling from Haruka's kisses.

The blonde paused, looking at her, then shook her head once more. "Play the slots, Mich."

The girl frowned, her eyes irritated. She turned to the machine, putting in a few quarters, stubbornly silent. She felt Haruka's hand slide over her free one and looked over, her mentor leaning over to kiss her softly once more, making the girl's heart flip-flop in her chest, though she didn't talk. At last, the woman sighed.

"Do you know who Kissing Kate is?" Haruka looked to her, her grey eye clouded with emotion.

Michiru frowned, then nodded. "Sure. The... old Western legend of a woman who left behind a kiss on the cheek of those she killed." The blonde sighed.

"She, the woman you remind me of, was called that. Well, sort of. She left a mark on all of her victims. Stamped in ink laced with blood." She looked to the threading of her pants, picking at imaginary lint. "It was mark up of the letters KK. People called her Kissing Kate, because those two letters were all she ever left behind. Sometimes Killing Kate. She was a very publicized assassin though no one knew anything about her. Her bizarre M.O. made her infamous, and I'm sure you can imagine how much the government liked that." She chuckled.

Michiru turned her body towards Haruka, frowning. "How did you know her?"

The blonde sighed. "One night, when I was 15, I came to this very casino. I used a fake ID. I was just a trainee then, but I had connections. Michiru, there's something you have to understand about our kind. Just because we seem like we're all on the same team doesn't mean we are. Assassins will kill anyone they are charged to, including each other. There are some organizations who would rather create lies to turn groups against one another. I didn't know when I came here that there was a rumor circulating that I was doing business with the Russians. While being a trainee for the Americans, this would have been a very incorrect move to make. I knew that, and so I would have never done anything like that. However, rumors are often more powerful than truth. I met our 'Killing Kate' when I was here." She looked to Michiru. "She was sent to kill me."

Michiru's eyes widened and she frowned, on the edge of her seat. "What did you do?"

"She met me, in disguise, of course. She was beautiful. It was easy to see why she was so successful. I asked her to my room, unaware of who she was, and when we got there, she shot me." Haruka's fingertips lifted to her eye patch and the aqua-haired teen's eyes widened.

"She..."

Haruka nodded. "She left me for dead after stamping my body with her seal. I would have died that night, but your father knew me. He knew I was no traitor to our cause here. He found me and took me to the hospital after washing away the ink on my wrist. Said I'd been caught in an alleyway by a gunman."

"But," Michiru paused, frowning. "A missing eye would end any assassin's career."

The blonde chuckled. "It almost did. Your father became my best friend. He helped me, trained me to sense things. He was an excellent teacher. It was when I was retraining my body to see what I couldn't truly see that I met my killer again."

Michiru frowned. "She came after you again?"

Haruka chuckled softly. "No, Michiru. She was your mother."

The girl's eyes flew wide in shock. "What!"

Others turned to look at them and Haruka laughed, then ran a hand through her hair. "She and your father were married when I was 14. Your dad was 18 and she was 22. She had graduated long before us, so she didn't have to hang around the Area. I had never met her, just heard stories. She was a remarkable woman. Her eyes..." She lifted her hand to caress Michiru's cheek, almost lovingly. "Just like yours. Full of courage and confidence, blue as the sea."

Michiru blushed and lowered her eyes.

"The next year, she was there when I graduated, and apologized, though I knew she didn't regret a thing. It wasn't that she hated me, or that she enjoyed killing. She just accepted it, who she was, the mistakes and achievements. KK stood for Kana Kaiou."

* * *

"Why didn't you say anything?" Michiru lounged on the big white couch in the upscale hotel room, having refused to sleep in the dingy old motel on the outskirts of the bright city. She wore the cashmere bathrobe from the huge marble bathroom, her hair still wet from her bath.

"What could I have said? Hey, I knew your dead mother. She tried to kill me! Yea, good times, that. Wanna hear the story of my missing eye?" The blonde rolled her eye and lingered at the mini-bar, then sighed and moved to take a seat, alcohol-less.

"It would have been nice to know you knew her!"

"Hey, I knew your dead mother. She seduced me then tried to kill me. Great conversation starter, Michiru."

The girl sighed and sat up. "Is that all?"

Haruka raised a brow. "What do you mean 'Is that all'?"

"Is that your huge secret? The one that made you so... angry?" She stood, moving to look out the huge window over Vegas, admiring the lights.

Haruka was silent for a moment. "No. There is a lot I want to tell you."

"Then?"

"No. You're not done yet. You promised to finish."

The girl frowned and clenched her fists, angry. "Haruka, I need to know! I'll finish my course, but give me something! I can't keep wondering! I am doing this all to avenge my father, and I need to be sure you'll give me what I need to finish this for good!" The blonde crossed the room and Michiru's eyes widened as she was kissed deeply. She relaxed into Haruka's strong grasp, returning the sweet kiss.

Haruka's lips seized her own once more before moving downwards, slipping along her neck and ear, finally the blonde whispering huskily. "Hush. I'll tell you what you need to know when it's time. For now, don't think about it."

Michiru shivered, her body quivering lightly, feeling hot. "What... else could I possibly think about instead?"

Haruka's lips alighted on her neck again, then traveled down to her collar, nipping the skin there. "Me."


	11. Chapter 11

The ride from Vegas left Michiru smiling as she held Haruka's hand in her own. She glanced to the blonde, whose eye was on the road, and gave her hand a squeeze. The blonde's gaze turned to her and she smiled genuinely, lifting Michiru's knuckles to kiss them.

"When I'm done. I mean, when I figure all this out and I fulfill what I came here and did all of this to do, will you be here?" Michiru asked, her voice soft.

Haruka looked to her, then pulled the car to the side of the road. She looked to Michiru again, then gestured. "Look, the sunset."

Michiru turned her eyes to the beautiful array of colors, made even more intense by the heat of the desert. The sun drifted below the landscape. She felt Haruka's arm slide around her shoulder, a soft kiss finding her ear a moment before the woman spoke.

"Michiru, no matter what, I will be there when you return. I will never leave your side." The gruff blonde smiled against Michiru's hair, and the girl felt her heart clench in happiness. She had believed she would never recover from her father's death, but her tears were shed and hardened into a need for revenge. Her heart, however, beat once again, alive and warm. She turned her sapphire eyes to Haruka, smiled, and kissed her. Although she would never forget the man who raised her, Haruka had taught her a new kind of love, and a new way to live.

* * *

Michiru awoke in her thin bed at the base, her eyes fluttering open. There were no sounds of snoring and murmuring around her, and light shown into the bunker. Her eyes widened and she jumped up, cursing, running to the bathing area of the bunker to get dressed, late for training. With only a few days left in her instruction, she couldn't afford to miss anything.

She pulled her hair back after shrugging on some clothes and ran from the bunker, her movements hurried at first, then slowing when her mind told her something was very wrong. She paused, her eyes scanning the base, her ears alert. She listened for the rumble of Jeeps and the occasional yelling, but heard nothing but the desert wind. Her eyes scanned the premises, seeing no movement.

Michiru traversed the grounds, going to the mess tent first. She looked around. "Hello?" she said into the silence, then turned, her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw an officer slumped over a table, blood spilling over the tabletop from the bullet wound in his head. Two more lay beside him, both shot dead. Panic surfacing in her mind, she backed out quickly, turning, and ran to the nearest building, pausing along the way as she saw two officers shot between the buildings. Her heart hammered in her chest as she pushed open the white door where there was supposed to be a seminar that day, her hands shaking. She felt tears spark her eyes to see nearly 15 bodies, blood everywhere, most of them her friends.

The young assassin then turned, her eyes full of emotion, her heart suddenly flipping in her chest. "Haruka...," she whispered, suddenly afraid for the life of her teacher and lover. She went to Stark's house, but as soon as she opened the door she saw the man's body lying crumpled on the ground near his desk, his secretary not much further away. She closed the door quickly, her breath fast and shaky, then turned, gathering her strength. She went into the house, her brow furrowed as she moved to the gun case, avoiding the bodies. She grabbed two loaded pistols and a machine gun, which she slung over her shoulder, her jaw set. The teen moved to the door, looking one more time to her commanding officer, and ran out in search of a killer.

All around lay dead bodies, all of them too recognizable. She avoided touching them, having superstitions about touching the dead, though some she gave an extended glance of sorrow to. All had been shot just once in the head, a deadly accurate skill.

Her instincts took her to the large white building she would be training in that day; the Scenario building. She opened the door, seeing no one as she went in, her heart pounding. Dummies and walls were set up, ready for her training. She stepped into the space slowly, though most of the lights were dimmed. She raised her gun, speaking into the low-lit room. "Haruka?" she whispered hurriedly, her eyes searching the area before her.

She took another step, and stopped when she heard the click of a gun, her body tensing. Michiru turned slowly, a look of relief and dismay in her eyes as she saw Haruka.

"Haruka! There you are. I was so worried. Something has happened to everyone...," tears gathered in her eyes again, her voice cracking. The blonde looked at her, then raised her gun until it aimed to Michiru's chest and the student fell silent for a moment, her eyes on the barrel. "What are you doing? It's me."

"I know, Michiru." Haruka's grey eye seemed to glow. "You're the last one alive. The last one, besides me. I killed everyone else myself."

Michiru felt vomit rise in her throat and swallowed, shaking her head quickly. "No. I don't believe it."

The gun went off and Michiru fell back, the shot making a little dent in the floor just where her foot had been. Her lip trembled. "Why are you doing this?"

Haruka smirked and lowered her gun. "Michiru, I've been lying to you this whole time. I was waiting for you to come and find me, to have an excuse to come back here and fulfill my plan. You see, I did kill your father. And I killed all of these people. With them out of the way, I can start my own academy, have all the money I could ever dream of. All that's left... is you." She pointed the gun at her student again.

"You did this for money?" Tears slid down her cheeks, her voice high pitched. Michiru didn't force herself to hide her emotions from the woman she loved. "I don't... you wouldn't." She stood a little straighter, knowing the blonde, but Haruka's hand didn't falter on her weapon.

Haruka sighed. "You were always so stupid. Finding me without even knowing how to yield your weapon. Blindly allowing me to bring you here. Following me to Vegas, where I seduced you." Michiru lowered her eyes, her cheeks burning. "Even after I told you not to trust another assassin, you fell right into my plan."

"My father trusted my mother, and she trusted him. That's why you weren't pursued further! She trusted him and his word! She loved him, as I love you! I know you wouldn't do this!"

The blonde moved closer, her finger tightening on the trigger, but Haruka's hand seemed to hesitate, her good eye meeting Michiru's, but then darkening. "Good bye, princess." She fired her gun.

Michiru felt her insides clench, her hand grabbing her pistol. Her hand swung around and she fired, crying out as the force from Haruka's gun hit her. She fell back, pain immediately searing her chest, and heard Haruka hit the floor too just before her world went black.

* * *

A.N.: Sorry this took FOREVER. We were without internet for EONS. :( But now, we are back! :D Over the break, we got a puppy... my hands got all cut up by a cat... I got an iPhone (they need a app!)... the world is awesome :D The Rapture didn't happen. XD Guess Michiru didn't fulfill her destiny and make Haruka archangel... :P


	12. Chapter 12

Michiru's eyes fluttered open as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Pain still sparked her chest, but she looked up into the smiling eyes of General Stark. Confusion entered her mind and she struggled to sit up, Stark pushing her back gently. She noticed there was still blood on his head. Others stood behind him, watching her, blood and fake wounds on their bodies too.

"Congrats, kid!" he quipped. "You passed your final test!"

The girl frowned, looking down, expecting to see her chest blown open. Instead, rock salt littered her clothes and left a bruising ache in her chest. She sat up quickly, bewildered. "Haruka!"

The blonde's hand rested on her shoulder, a soft kiss against her cheek. She relaxed and turned, looking to the blonde. "But I...," tears surfaced in her eyes. Haruka sat back and opened her shirt to show her the bulletproof vest, a dent in the upper abdomen.

"I'm okay," the blonde whispered. "Just lucky you can't shoot." She smirked, her grey eye full of warmth.

* * *

Graduation was a simple ceremony. Michiru walked onto the porch of Stark's house, the wind blowing around them as she got to the wooden porch. She turned her eyes to the crowd that stood, watching. Haruka stood beside the general, wearing a nice button up and slacks. General Stark wore his dress greens, medals and pins littering his jacket, his eyes proud as he gazed on the young girl.

"Michiru, you have learned in 6 months what it would take others years. Your skills are impeccable. I know your father would have been proud of you." He rested his hand on her shoulder and Michiru smiled, her heart beating strong. "It is our tradition to give something to our graduates that will stay with them forever. For you, your mission, your goals, this special case, we have an especially exceptional gift."

He turned to Haruka, who lifted a long box. He opened it and Michiru felt her heart flutter hard in her chest as he lifted out the long sword. "This katana was made especially for you. May it help you fulfill your purpose." He lifted it into Michiru's hands and she looked at it gratefully. The hilt was wrapped in teal and sparkling silver, a dolphin charm dangling against the singing blade.

She smiled, then suddenly hugged the general, who chuckled and hugged her close. She lifted her eyes to Haruka, a new determination in them. The blonde smiled and gave her a nod.

* * *

"I need names. I need dates... details, what they wore, their scars... anything," Michiru rambled, pacing the hotel room. Haruka looked out the window over Reno and sighed. Michiru looked at her. "What is it?"

"Do you ever think about giving it up? I mean, is revenge so important?," her voice was soft.

Michiru frowned and moved to her teacher's side. She wrapped an arm around her, kissing her shoulder. "Haruka, a killer is out there. This person could be better than even my father, but I must do this. I refuse to let it go. I will succeed. Will you help," she moved to look up into Haruka's eye, sliding her fingers up to trace over her eyepatch. "...or do I have to do this myself?"

The blonde caught her hand, kissing it. "I told you I'd always be at your side."

Michiru perched on the bed, watching Haruka. The blonde sat in a chair, thinking, her gaze far away for a little while. At last, she sighed. "To begin, I don't believe I was the only person who believed your mother didn't die in childbirth."

Michiru frowned, looking at her. "What?"

"While, it's true, she did die giving birth, something happened to induce labor. You were early by nearly a month. She wasn't working at the time so the news was troublesome. However, after her death no reasons could be deduced. Your father was heartbroken, but he knew you were a blessing and didn't want you to be raised in sorrow. He really loved you."

The girl smiled sadly. "I know. That's why I have to do this. For my father... and my mother. Do you know who did it?"

"I have an idea. When I was a student," she pulled out the photo Michiru had seen in her apartment, looking at it. "We were the dream team, of sorts. Your father, me, Stark, and Anouke."

Michiru blinked. "Wait... Lady Anouke was in your class?"

"Ah, I forgot you met her. Yes. She was a lethal killer, fast and efficient. Stark had eyes for her, but she loved your father." Haruka lifted her gaze. "She flirted mercilessly with him, asked him out many times. When he turned her down, she acted alright with it, but once after he had told her it would never work I saw her aggression. She was best with a gun, a pistol in fact. She was also skilled in herbs and outdoor survival. She knew exactly which plants could save you or kill you. I believe she may have given your mother a poison of some kind."

The girl sat up, frowning. "But, even if she did, you said yourself she was best with a pistol. My father was killed with a sword."

Haruka stood, looking out the window again to the city. "But how ironic would it be? For your father to be killed with his own sword."

Michiru paused, her heartbeat quickening. "The same sword I used." The blonde nodded and Michiru felt anger rise in her chest. She shook her head. "But how do you know? How can you be sure? When I went to visit her, she was so nice. She gave no indication that she..."

"Michiru." Haruka crossed the room, sitting in front of her. "We are assassins." She caressed her cheek. "I believe she was lying. When you were little, your father told me she tried to contact him. She even came to see you both once. He said she acted quite weird around you. Holding you often, cooing to you like a mother. He didn't like it and asked her to leave. She did, but not before she gave you a little necklace she had made. I know there may be many people who wanted your father, the assassin, dead, but I knew them both for years. Anouke is ruthless. She gets what she wants."

"Why wait so long then?" Michiru's heart conflicted with her, trying to sort out this new information. "It was over 15 years..."

"I believe she thought about it. Like all of us she knows strategy. No one would suspect her if it was so long after the fact. She may have been hoping that he would enroll you in the academy and you'd go to see her. She probably figured if she won your heart she'd win your father. But something must have happened."

"Perhaps she came to see him and they fought." She rubbed her head. "And things got out of hand and she killed him." She rested her head against the headboard. "I should have known! I should have been able to tell!"

Haruka caressed her cheek. "No. You can't blame yourself here. The point is, Michiru, I don't want you to go."

"What?" The aqua-haired girl frowned. "But you just told me all of this and now suddenly I shouldn't go?"

The blonde sighed. "She is dangerous! She doesn't care who she kills, and if you go after her I am worried she'll kill you."

"It would be better than sitting here knowing this and doing nothing like a coward!"

Haruka stiffened and frowned, looking away. Michiru frowned then, sorry, and moved to wrap her arms around her love. "I'm sorry. You're not a coward. Please. I'm going. I'll be okay."

"What if you're not? I told him I'd always watch out for you, but after his death, I could barely watch out for myself. I blamed myself. I could have killed her long ago, but I didn't know for sure until I visited the house. There were letters, hidden. I took them. They were from Anouke, how she wanted to meet him, to see you. Her anger that he wouldn't write back. She told him it was long enough for him to mourn Kana. I was sure then. Her anger brought her to kill him. Despite this, despite that I was so sure, I didn't dare go. I was just a has been til you came along." She looked to the girl. "You saved me."

Michiru smiled some. "Ironic, for an assassin." She kissed Haruka's hair. "I'll defeat her. I'll get my revenge. Don't worry. I'll come back." She got up from the bed. "I promise."


	13. Chapter 13

The plane ride to Egypt left Michiru mulling over her thoughts again and again. She touched the four leaf clover charm Haruka had given her, looking out the window over Cairo, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt ready, angry, and betrayed all in one. She remembered Lady Anouke's kind smile, her purr of a voice.

Michiru stayed in a hotel the first night, gathering her thoughts. In the morning, she visited the bazaar. In the heat, she wore a cotton tunic and a pair of khaki shorts and sandals that clung close to her feet. The shopkeepers yelled and laughed, haggling with their customers. Michiru pulled her backpack over her shoulder, appearing as a young tourist today, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked around, smiling to the wide array of spices, jewelry, and other odd things. One shopkeeper sold camels, another sold pet spiders.

"Ah! A pretty girl!" A shopkeeper yelled in broken English. Michiru looked over, then moved to the stall, seeing round bottles of perfume. The shopkeep chuckled and offered her a ceramic cup of an aromatic tea. The girl blinked, then took it and smiled, bowing her head before sipping it. The man watched her, smiling. "You looking for exotic scents? We have all you need!" He gestured grandly to his items. "But for you... This." He selected one bottle with a ringed finger and offered it to Michiru.

Michiru took the bottle, sliding off the ornate cap, smelling it. "Try it, try it!" the man insisted, laughing, and Michiru lifted her wrist, spraying it with the scent. Immediately, the smell of white lily and incense rose to her nose. She leaned to inhale deeply, smelling several herbs, and a tiny bit of rose, the effect subtle and spicy. She stood and smiled.

"I'll take this one," she said as she reached into her purse for her wallet.

The man raised a brow. "You do not want... how they say... haggle?" Michiru looked to the white clothed man and shook her head, taking out 450 Egyptian pounds and giving them to him, the shopkeep silent for a moment, before he cleared his throat and stooped to get her a small bag. She slid the perfume in and gave him a smile, moving on in the bazaar, the perfume drying down on her wrist drawing eyes from many.

* * *

Lady Anouke's mansion loomed over her, taunting. All of her intuition, her mental training, it had been useless when she had met the likely killer of her own father. She cursed herself, but let it bud into anger. She was let into the building easily, and was seated in a room scented with lavender and decorated in lush fabrics. Her sword's case rested against the back of the chair, a knife hidden in a fold in her shorts. The maid brought in tea.

A minute later, Lady Anouke came in. She gave Michiru a warm smile, dressed in a silk kimono dress, her collar bare and tan. "It is so good to see you again, Michiru!" the tall woman moved into the room, sliding gracefully into the seat across the table. "What brings you?" She poured them both tea, mixing Michiru's with milk and honey.

"I have more questions, about my father and the people he knew." She watched the woman, sipping her tea when it was offered.

"Ah, still have not caught his killer? It is a pity... such a soul deserves to be avenged."

Michiru peered at her over the rim of her porcelain cup. "I agree. I had been given some new information. A very possible lead."

The woman seemed to straighten, her dark eyes interested. "Oh? Do tell." She sipped her own tea delicately.

"Well," Michiru set her cup down. She remembered nearly a year ago she had sat in this very room. She had been scared but determined. Now, she sat straight, confident. She was a year older, stronger, smarter, in control. Her sapphire eyes lifted to the elegant woman before her, the justice that could only be given by an assassin shining in her gaze. "I have reason to believe it was someone he knew. Someone who wanted to be very close to him."

Anouke's dark eyes lifted, meeting hers. "Wanted to be close to him?" Her gaze was slightly narrowed with agitation.

"Yes." Michiru changed her tone now. "Someone who wanted in his life but perhaps never got her opportunity, no matter how hard she tried. No matter how many letters she wrote, calls she made, times she visited... she was never enough for my father. Or me."

The Lady's nostrils flared, her grip on her cup firm. "I am sure that it would be very hard on a person. Being kept at a distance by someone one would rather love closely. It must have tortured her. Perhaps to the point of breaking."

"To the point of killing the one she loved." Michiru's voice was soft, her eyes level.

Anouke looked at her, her lips a thin line. Her eyes then traveled across Michiru's strong posture, the small scars that littered her skin subtly. Her eyes went to Michiru's sword's case and narrowed. Then, she smiled, quickly covering up her surprise with poise.

"Michiru," she said softly. "What is the point you are trying to make?"

The girl sat up. "You killed my father. And I believe you killed my mother too, all those years ago."

The woman blinked, then chuckled. "You are smart. I can even smell the scent of incense and flowers on you... the scent of those who lay to rest and purify the dead... how ironic." She stood, Michiru's body tensing, preparing for anything. "But... it doesn't matter. For the record, you are right, but I know you could never best me. I can see you are now as skilled as any trainee. Who did you find to train you?"

"Does it matter?"

"No. I suppose not. You want the answer. The definitive answer." She turned to Michiru from the window, the sun in the stained glass making a line of fire around her dark hair. "And then I suppose you will take that sword of yours... and I am sure it is your sword now... and you will attempt to kill me. However, I am the best now." Her gaze darkened. "There is no chance of you defeating me in a fight. There is no way your skill will best mine. I am surprised, to be honest, that they would send you. This is a death sentence, if I was to choose to take out my weapon. You would die."

Michiru frowned, anger rising in her chest. "Did you kill him?"

The woman sighed. "So driven." She turned to Michiru. "Yes, I killed your mother. Trauma for a pregnant woman is easy to induce... easier with the right herbs and medicine. I thought for sure her death would bring your father and I closer." She inspected her nails. "But he pushed me away. I tried again and again, until I could not try any more. For over 14 years... Michiru, you could never understand."

"I understand murder," the girl's voice was low and soft.

"You understand nothing!" the woman's voice shook as it rose, unaccustomed to being anything less than calm and collected. "I killed your father because he refused to understand my love. He could have pretended... could have forced himself to love me. But I suppose it's a waste of my time to try to explain this to you."

"Because you know I seek revenge."

"Because I would like to try to appeal to you. It has been over a year. You must understand how utterly guilty I felt!" The woman turned to her, her voice low again, her eyes like that of a snake. "I have repented for my sin against your father, and I ask for your forgiveness." She moved to Michiru slowly, outstretching her hand. "Forgive me, and together we could be... friends. A family, even, my Michiru."

Michiru's heart clenched at the nerve of the woman before her. Her eyes grew angry, then narrowed. "You will never be my family. I know you will never change. You will always be a spoiled, heartless girl living in the shell of a woman!"

"Why you little wretch of a child!" Anouke's eyes all at once filled with fire and she grabbed her own wrist, slipping a sharp little knife from her gilded bracelet. She moved fast, her aim the girl's bare neck.

* * *

A.N.: Almost done! :D Expect more updates soon.

I am working on a one-shot, so hopefully that will be up soon as well :) Lost and I have been quite busy lately so we haven't gotten to mull our ideas like usual. Don't worry, though, I am sure we will both get back to writing soon! 3

Hope you all are enjoying! :DDDD


	14. Chapter 14

Michiru's eyes widened and she narrowly managed to lean back in her chair, the tiny knife slicing the air above her face. At the same time, her foot swung up and she caught the Lady's knee, taking it out from under her. Lady Anouke's face planted against the table and Michiru felt hot pain in her thigh, a slice on her bare skin. She stumbled from the chair and ran, the woman cursing and yelling.

Michiru limped into the hallway, sliding into another room. She closed the door behind her, hearing maids running past the door. She looked to the lavish colored silks and stained wicker and ran to the window, cursing to find it overlooked a courtyard. Suddenly, she heard a crash and a yell.

"I'll find you, you little bitch! Don't think I don't know my own house!" Then, the doorknob jiggled and Michiru launched herself from the window, sailing down from the second story to the gravel courtyard as the door swung open. She looked around quickly before bounding into the deep fountain at the courtyard's heart. She sunk into a bed of water lily and quickly forced her way under. She gripped the fountain's central vertical column to hold herself under, the water lilies making the fountain appear dark. She looked upwards, barely able to see the sky through their circular pads.

Michiru did her best not to let out her breath for several seconds, though her hands began to shake as she felt the buildup of old air in her lungs. She allowed herself to slowly come up beside a little family of lilies, her lips surfacing carefully. She let out a breath, then took one in. The girl slid her face so her ear was surfaced. Water moved out of it and she heard yelling in the ornate house and stones moving in the courtyard.

"Check all of the halls!" Lady Anouke yelled, close to the fountain. A man's voice yelled her order again, and Michiru assumed they must be the guards she'd seen wearing red and black coats with pistols and sabers at their sides. Michiru heard them run from the courtyard after they assaulted the bushes nearby, and heard the soft, confident walk of Lady Anouke in the gravel. She heard the woman pause. "I know you're here. I suppose you'll strike in the night, with no guards to distract our fight. You're a brave little girl. But I can smell your fear." She walked off into the house and Michiru sunk into the fountain again, her nostrils flaring in anger, waiting for the night.

The guards ended their search an hour later, but Michiru knew they were still alert. She moved to the fountain's edge, thoroughly soaked, and peeked out. A guard patrolled the upper balcony, but he looked bored and paid little attention. When he went into the hall, Michiru stood in the fountain to ring out her hair with a sigh, picking out a lily pad. She let the rest of the water drip from her upper body before stepping out of the water and slowly onto the gravel, her steps soft. She glanced around warily before taking refuge under a one of the thick flowering bushes of the grand courtyard.

As Michiru braided her soaking hair, she cursed, realizing her sword was still upstairs, and likely now in the Lady's possession. She attempted to ring out her socks, taking out the little knife from her shorts as she did so. This was no time for her to chicken out. She would have to make due with any weapon she found. It was, after all, she thought to herself, a soft smile on her lips, her job.

The guard on patrol was easy to kill. The others played a few rounds of Blackjack in a back room, laughing. Michiru ignored them and moved up the hall, going to the stairwell. From the wall she selected an antique saber, its edge not quite sharp. She ascended the stairs silently, her nostrils flaring to take in the scents of the house and her ears alert for the sounds.

Her nose led her to a wooden door scented with incense, music from inside. Frowning, Michiru paused at it, then eased it open, the saber at the ready. Inside old-time music wafted through the air on ringlets of smoke. Incense scented the room with patchouli and lavender. Michiru slid inside and closed the door, looking into the darkened space.

Suddenly, the lights snapped on and Michiru jumped, alarmed. Lady Anouke moved to sit in the windowsill that was open to the night. She wore a lovely antique silk robe, her hair pulled up into an intricate bun. She lifted her dark eyes to the young girl. "Michiru... I knew I would be right."

The girl growled. "So? It doesn't matter. Your guards are still occupied elsewhere."

The woman laughed, her confidence infuriating Michiru. "You think I can't call them at will?" She lifted a small remote. "Modern conveniences put whatever I need at my fingertips. Guards...," she pointed to a red button. "Weapons." She pressed a blue button and the wall to Michiru's left turned to reveal a lit panel covered in at least two dozen guns. The young assassin swallowed nervously.

"Even... a bit of freedom from curiosity." She pushed another button and the music in the room turned up, the sounds of jazz filling the room, yet her voice was still clear as she stood. With her confident, long-strided walk, she moved to Michiru, looking down to her. "Michiru. My dear, sweet Michiru." She reached out a hand, Michiru's nostrils flaring, furious, as she stroked her cheek. "Give up this charade. You can't hope to defeat me here. You think your meager experience is any real match for mine? Child, you can't even hope for it." Her eyes were soft and gentle, her tone like a mother's with a hint of bite.

Michiru's mind went back to the carnage her father's body, blood everywhere, no sense of love or mercy in the way he had been killed. She considered her journey here, nearly a year and a half of searching, her anger over Lady Anouke's lies, her unexpected love for her bold teacher. To go back empty handed, or even dead would have meant it had all been a waste and that her father had been killed for the selfishness of another.

"No." She lifted her defiant eyes. "This is the cross you gave me to bear. I will see its weight lifted tonight!" She brought up the blunt saber and struck the Lady in the side of the neck. Anouke gave a cry and fell to the floor, the blaring vintage music covering their fight. Michiru leapt onto her, pulling out the knife from her pocket, lifting her hand to stab her, but Anouke's hand flew to her thigh under her robe where a gun waited and brought it up, pulling the trigger.

Michiru leapt out of the way and the bullet lodged into an African mask on the wall, sending half of it clattering to the floor. The girl rolled and grabbed the saber, launching herself from the floor and to the case on the wall where she grabbed a pistol and turned. Anouke was nowhere to be seen. Michiru's eyes dashed around the room, her chest rising and falling in gasps. The girl moved into the middle of the room, the gun pointed in front of her, ready.

There was a hiss behind her and she turned just in time to see the woman slide from behind the bed, her gun pointed to Michiru's head. Michiru brought hers up to point at her heart, her eyes lighting with fear, then courage. Anouke grinned. "You're not as bad as I had thought."

"One more move and I'll kill you," Michiru growled through grit teeth.

The Egyptian woman laughed, her eyes amused. "Michiru. One thing you should always remember about guns. Take the damn safety off." Her finger tightened on the trigger.

There was a loud crash, and the other window burst open, the shutter slats pattering the floor. Both women turned their eyes in surprise to where a streak of blonde jumped into the sill. Haruka's one eye was dangerous and full of emotion. "Drop the gun, Anouke!" She stood on the sill, wearing a grey tanktop and black pants. In her hands was a massive machine gun.

Lady Anouke laughed, but it was weaker now, less cocky, a mix of shock and apprehension. "Ah, we see each other again, Windchaser." She lowered her gun but didn't let it go. Michiru still pointed her gun to the Lady, her bewildered eyes turning to her lover. "I suppose you've come to protect your assets. I'm sure it would be a shame to you to lose her." Lady Anouke's dark eyes turned to Michiru once more and she lifted her gun, barely flinching as she shot.

Michiru felt white hot pain shoot through her chest and her eyes rolled back as she felt her collarbone shatter by her left shoulder. She fell to the floor, clinging to consciousness, her sapphire eyes lifting desperately to her teacher.

Haruka let out an anguished cry and jumped from where she had been standing, shooting the machine gun. Anouke rolled away with a laugh, the bullets pock-marking the stucco wall and Michiru heard nearby a banging on the door. The woman turned to the door, lifting her remote from her robe's pocket, and the door's mechanism locked with a click, sealing them in. She turned to Haruka. "This is our fight now." She lifted her gun and shot at the blonde, who moved out of the way just in time and swung around to shoot at the other woman again.

Their fight circled the room, bullets dissecting the walls. The banging on the door became louder, and soon it sounded like a battering ram on the wood. Neither flinched, however, and finally a sweating Haruka met a disheveled Anouke in the middle of the room, the blonde's eye furious.

"Either way, you will lose, Anouke," she snarled, her gun pointed at her abdomen. Anouke's gun raised to her neck.

"You think so? I'd say my guards are almost in." The door was splintering near the middle. Anouke's eyes became steel as she prepared to shoot the blonde.

Michiru's breathing was labored, sweat dotting her face and neck, blood pouring onto the floor, but she sat up. "Time for you... to bear this cross, bitch." Her pistol swung up and she pulled the trigger.

Anouke faltered, then stumbled some, finally dark blood dripping down her raven black hair and onto the floor. Her hand shook, her eyes quickly glazing. The door burst open just as Anouke fell to the floor and the guards were yelling. A gun went off and Haruka, who had been looking to Michiru, let out a grunt.

Michiru screamed, blood appearing on the blonde's grey top over her ribs. Haruka lifted her hand to the wound, then looked to Michiru before collapsing to the floor. The girl let out a cry of agony and jerked herself towards the blonde despite the intense pain in her shoulder that made her dizzy and disoriented.

The guards paused, staring at the scene of disaster before them. One walked in, checking the Lady's pulse, shaking his head to the others and looking to Michiru. The girl sobbed, then lifted her eyes to the man in red and black. He looked down to her, then to the men again, his voice accented. "Call an ambulance."

Michiru turned her eyes back to Haruka, whose eyes fluttered some. The blonde opened her eye and gave Michiru a small smile after she winced. "You were so good."

"Why did you come?" She cried softly, the pain in her heart worse than the one in her arm.

"Please. Like I would let you come here without a backup plan." The blonde winced again when she tried to laugh. She lifted her hand to Michiru's cheek and smiled some, a bit of blood appearing at her lip.

"Hold on," the girl begged. "Please!"

"Thanks... for saving me." Tears appeared in the blonde's eye and she let out a grunt, laying back, her eye closing as she fell limp.

* * *

A.N.: Sorry for my absence! Our internet has been crap lately! But I only have one more chapter to go anyway. :) I have been rolling around some new ideas, so please stay with me here. I hope to get a new story up soon. I am also trying to write a book and have begun the stages of researching information and preparing a story line. It's been quite fun so far! Hopefully eventually it will take the handsome Lost and I to the New England area and also Las Vegas. :) We love to travel so we can't wait!

Anyway, look for the next update soon and hopefully a new story! 3 Thanks all!


	15. Chapter 15

The doctor sighed and went into the hospital room where a young girl sat in one of the stiff white beds. "Mrs. Peters?"

The girl with sapphire eyes looked up. A bandage wound around her shoulder, a thick pad of gauze beneath. Her hospital gown was tied beneath it. "Your wife made it through surgery." He smiled. "She'll actually be brought in here so you can see her in a few minutes."

The smile from her lips reached her deep eyes, and she opened her mouth, speaking in a perfect London accent. "Thank you, doctor. I'm so glad. It was such a shock... we were just here on a simple holiday."

The young doctor moved to the girl, checking her shoulder, which was stitched and bandaged. "I hope you don't blame the rest of us for the rudeness and delinquency of a mugger, Mrs. Peters. Your wife was very fortunate. She suffered a broken rib due to the bullet, but little more. We feared internal bleeding, but luckily it was just a nicked vein. Your wound should heal up in a few days, though I'm sad to say it may leave a scar." He looked to her. "Is it alright if I send in the detectives?"

"Of course. Thank you, doctor." She watched him go, two detectives walking in. She sat up straight, the young trained assassin having already put together her elaborate lie.

* * *

Haruka's eye fluttered open and she looked down to the weight on her arm, smiling some to see a sea of aqua. She slid her hand onto the girl's cheek and Michiru lifted her eyes to look at her, a bright smile on her lips. "Good morning, gorgeous."

Michiru snuggled closer to the blonde's side, their bare skin pressing close. She kissed her eyepatch, then her lips once, then again. Haruka groaned and pulled her onto her, deepening their kiss. Michiru's hands roamed and Haruka grunted. The girl sat up and giggled. "Sorry. Didn't mean to disrupt any old scars." Her fingers slid over the dandy scar on the blonde's ribs.

"Not old til I get a new one." The blonde smirked and watched as the naked girl got up from their bed. Michiru moved across the large penthouse apartment to the marble bathroom.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow. I've decided." Michiru called as she brushed her teeth.

Haruka frowned and sat up, sliding on her robe before following the girl. "On your birthday? Not fair."

Michiru turned to her after rinsing her mouth. "Come with me?"

"To Egypt? Ah, no. Once bitten, twice shy." She motioned to her ribs with a joking grin.

"You know it will be different."

"Do I? Do you? They seemed awful quick to declare their allegiance to you."

Michiru shrugged. "Look, I had Reisho look into it for me. He said it wasn't unusual for that tribe. They will follow you until the day you die, and then they will follow your killer. I'm optimistic."

Haruka sighed and sat up, pulling the sheet around her lithe body. "Stay with me?" Scars littered her skin but she didn't hide them from Michiru any longer.

The girl sighed and turned to her teacher and lover. "And lead a regular life with regular jobs and regular cars, some regular pets and..."

"And eventually some regular kids?" Haruka gave her a charming smile and slid her arms around the girl's waist. Michiru shook her head.

"No. I got myself this far. I must carry on the Kaiou name, so that my father is always remembered." She laid an absent-minded kiss on the blonde's shoulder. "Besides, you knew if I went to Egypt there was a chance I could die."

"Exactly why I followed you!" Haruka sighed in irritation. "Besides, now you did your thing and you can be done. Look, Mich, I did it for years. I know how hard it is... the pain, the regret, the anger. I couldn't bear to see that for you."

Michiru pulled away from her lover's grasp with a sigh, sliding on a silk robe to move to the window that overlooked the city of Phoenix. "This is what you made me. No... this is what I made myself. It is now what I want." She turned to Haruka. "With you by my side. You came so far too, why throw it all away? Come out of retirement. Do this with me. We could be unstoppable, wealthy beyond imagination... and happy together, doing what we love."

Haruka grinned, leaning against the door frame. "Killing things?"

Michiru's lips reflected her slightly sadistic grin. "Killing things."

* * *

The security guard's eyes scanned the incoming arrivals at the airport's gate. A tall blonde woman walked out on a cell phone, her brow furrowed. The guard moved to her. "Ma'am, you've been selected for a random security check. Please come with me."

The woman blinked, then frowned and put her caller on hold in French, then looked to the guard. "Is everything alright? I already checked my bags."

"It's just an extra security precaution, ma'am." She led her from the area, the woman seeming to become much more anxious as they walked towards a door. The guard gave her a soft, reassuring smile, and pulled out her stash of keys, opening the door. She motioned inside and the blonde swallowed before going in.

The room was dark, but she ventured inside, however unsure. The guard moved in behind her, and suddenly the lights flicked on, revealing a storage closet full of cleaning supplies and sterile gloves. "What the hell?" The woman growled angrily and turned.

The silenced gun swung up, a bullet catching her between the eyes. The woman's eyes widened, then closed as she fell to the floor, dead. The guard moved to stand over her, then turned away, taking off her hat to let down her aqua hair. She opened her uniform's blouse to reveal a red silk blouse beneath it, her black slacks remaining. She took her victim's shoes and purse, leaving behind her false disguise.

The young aqua-haired beauty walked from the room and down the hallway, sliding easily into the walking traffic of the airport. A blonde woman, so masculine she appeared almost male, joined her, and she felt a grin slide over her lips. "Mission accomplished, as they say."

Haruka's hand slid into her own, intertwining their fingers. "Mmn, good. Now can we get on our own flight? I'm itching for a vacation."

"Now that that's over, we can go anywhere you like." Michiru gave a cocky grin to her lover, then handed her ticket to the woman at the desk, the two women boarding their flight.

* * *

A.N.: Finally done! :D Sorry for my spotty updates, dears. 3 I have recently begun research for an actual, legit novel. It's been a fun ride so far! I am hoping to crank out some stories in the mean time, so please be patient and keep an eye out. I hope you all liked this story :D 333


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